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tilt* 


OUR,  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


BY 

CHARLES  DICKENS 


BOOK  THE  THIRD. 


NEW  YORK: 

.PUBLISHED  BY  JOHN  BRADBURN, 

(successor  to  m.  doolady,) 

•li)  WALKEK-STKEET. 

J 8G5. 


821> 

l>S^ov 


r> 

H 


r 

■> 


^ OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


It  was  a foggy  day  in  London,  and  the  fog  was  lieavy 
and  dark.  Animate  London,  with  smarting  eyes  and 
irritated  langs,  Y/as  blinking,  wheezing,  and  choking  ; in- 
animate London  was  a sooty  spectre,  divided  in  purpose 
between  being  visible  and  invisible,  and  so  being  wholly 
neither.  Gaslights  flared  in  the  shops  with  a haggard 
and  unblessed  air,  as  knowing  themselves  to  be  night- 
creatures  that  had  no  business  abroad  under  the  sun  ; 
while  the  sun  itself,  when  it  was  for  a few  moments  dimly 
indicated  through  circling  eddies  of  fog,  showed  as  if  it 
had  gone  out  and  were  collapsing  flat  and  cold.  Even  in 
the  surrounding  country  it  was  a foggy  day,  but  tliere 
the  fog  was  gray,  whereas  in  London  it  was,  at  about  the 
boundary  line,  dark  yellow,  and  a little  within  it  brown, 
and  then  browner,  and  tlien  browner,  until  at  the  heart  of 
the  City — which  call  Saint  Mary  Axe — it  was  rusty  black. 


IN  FOUR  BOOKS. 


BOOK  THE  THIRD 


A LONU  LANE. 


CHAPTER  I. 


LODGERS  IN  QUEER  STREET. 


680269  ’ 


4 


OUE  MUTUAL  FEIEND. 


From  any  point  of  the  high  ridge  of  land  northward,  it 
might  have  been  discerned  that  the  loftiest  buildings  made 
an  occasional  struggle  to  get  their  heads  above  the  foggy 
sea,  and  especially  that  the  great  dome  of  Saint  PauPs 
seemed  to  die  hard  ; but  this  was  not  perceivable  in  the 
streets  at  their  feet,  where  the  whole  metropolis  was  a 
heap  of  vapor  charged  with  muffled  sound  of  wheels,  and 
enfolding  a gigantic  catarrh. 

At  nine  o’clock  on  such  a morning,  the  place  of  business 
of  Pubsey  & Co.  was  not  the  liveliest  object  even  in  Saint 
Mary  Axe — which  is  not  a very  lively  spot — with  a sob- 
bing gaslight  in  the  counting-house  window,  and  a bur- 
glarious stream  of  fog  creeping  in  to  strangle  it  through 
the  keyhole  of  the  main  door.  But  the  light  went  out, 
and  the  main  door  opened,  and  Eiah  came  forth  with  a 
bag  under  his  arm. 

Almost  ill  the  act  of  coming  out  at  the  door  Eiah  went 
into  the  fog*,  and  was  lost  to  the  eyes  of  Saint  Mary 
Axe.  But  the  eyes  of  this  history  can  follow  him  west- 
*ward,  by  Cornhill,  Cheapside,  Fleet  Street,  and  the 
Strand,  to  Piccadilly  and  the  Albany.  Thither  he  went 
at  his  grave  and  measured  pace,  staff  in  hand,  skirt  at 
heel ; and  more  than  one  head,  turning  to  look  back  at 
his  venerable  figure  already  lost  in  the  mist,  supposed  it 
to  be  some  ordinary  figure  indistinctly  seen,  which  fancy 
and  the  fog  had  worked  into  that  passing  likeness. 

Arrived  at  the  house  in  which  his  master’s  chambers 
were  on  the  second- floor,  Eiah  proceeded  up  the  stairs, 
and  paused  at  Fascination  Fledgeby’s  door.  Making  free 
with  neither  bell  nor  knocker,  he  struck  upon  tiie  door 
witli  the  top  of  his  staff,  and,  having  listened,  sat  down 
on  the  threshold.  It  was  characteristic  of  his  habitual 


OtTR  MUTUAL  FSIEKI). 


5 


subniissiou,  that  he  sat  down  on  the  raw,  dark  staircase, 
as  many  of  bis  ancestors  had  jDVobably  sat  down  in  dun- 
geons, taking  wliat  befell  him  as  it  might  befall. 

After  a time,  ivhen  he  had  grown  so  cold  as  to  be  fain 
to  blow'  upon  his  fingers,  he  arose  and  knocked  with  his 
staff  again,  and  listened  again,  and  again  sat  down  to 
wait.  Thrice  he  repeated  these  actions  before  his  listen- 
ing ears  were  greeted  by  the  voice  of  Fledgeby,  calling' 
from  his  bed,  Hold  your  row  ! I’ll  come  and  open  the 
door  directly  !”  But  in  lieu  of  coming  directly,  he  fell 
into  a sleep  for  some  quarter  of  an  hour  more,  during 
which  added  interval  Biali  sat  upon  the  stairs  and  waited 
with  perfect  patience. 

At  length  the  door  stood  open,  and  Mr.  Fledgeby’s 
retreating  drapery  plunged  into  bed  again.  Following  it 
at  a respectful  distance,  Riah  passed  into  the  bedchamber, 
W'here  a fire  had  been  sometime  lighted,  and  was  burning 
briskly. 

Why,  what  time  of  night  do  you  mean  to  call  it 
inquired  Fledgeby,  turning  away  beneath  the  clothes,  and 
presenting  a comfortable  rampart  of  shoulder  to  the 
chilled  figure  of  the  old  man. 

Sir,  it  is  full  half  past  ten  in  the  morning.” 

The  deuce  it  is  ! Then  it  must  be  precious  foggy 
. ''  Very  foggy.  Sir.” 

“ And  raw,  then 

Chill  and  bitter,”  said  Riah,  drawing  out  a hand- 
kerchief, and  wiping  the  moisture  from  his  beard  and  long 
gray  hair  as  he  stood  on  the  verge  of  the  rug,  with  his 
eyes  on  the  acceptable  fire. 

With  a plunge  of  enjoyment  Fledgeby  settled  himself 
afresh. 


6 


OtJR  SltlTUAL  FBIEKt)* 


Any  snow,  or  sleet,  or  slush,  or  anything  of  that 
sort  he  asked. 

No,  Sir,  no.  Not  quite  so  bad  as  that.  Tlfe  streets 
are  pretty  clean.” 

You  needn’t  brag  about  it,”  retunied  Fledgeby,  dis- 
appointed in  his  desire  to  heighten  the  contrast  between 
his  bed  and  the  streets.  ^VBut  you’re  always  bragging 
about  something.  Got  the  books  there  ?” 

''  Tliey  are  here.  Sir.” 

All  right.  I’ll  turn  the  general  subject  over  in  my 
mind  for  a minute  or  two,  and  while  I’m  about  it  you  can 
empty  your  bag  and  get  ready  for  me.” 

With  another  comfortable  plunge  Mr.  Fledgeby  fell 
asleep  again.  The  old  man,  having  obeyed  his  directions, 
gat  down  on  the  edge  of  a chair,  and,  folding  his  hands 
before  him,  gradually  yielded  to  the  influence  of  the 
warmth,  and  dozed.  He  was  roused  by  Mr.  Fledgeby’s 
appearing  erect  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  in  Turkish  slip- 
pers, rose-colored  Turkish  trowsers  (got  cheap  from  some- 
body who  had  cheated  some  other  somebody  out  of  them,) 
and  a gown  and  cap  to  correspond.  In  that  costume  he 
would  have  left  nothing  to  be  desired,  if  he  had  been 
further  fitted  out  with  a bottomless  chair,  a lantern,  and 
a bunch  of  matches. 

Now,  old  ’un  !”  cried  Fascination,  in  his  light  rail- 
lery, what  dodgery  are  you  up  to  next,  sitting  there 
with  your  eyes  shut  ? You  ain’t  asleep.  Catch  a weasel 
at  it,  and  catch  a Jew  !” 

Truly,  Sir,  I fear  I nodded,”  said  the  old  man. 

Not  you  !”  returned  Fledgeby,  with  a cunning  look. 

A telling  move  with  a good  many,  I dare  say,  but  it 
won’t  put  me  off  my  guard.  Not  a bad  notion  though,  if 


OUR  MCTUAL  FRIEND. 


7 


you  want  to  look  indifferent  in  driving  a bargain.  Ob, 
yon  are  a dodger 

Tlie  old  man  shook  his  head,  gently  repudiating  the 
imputation,  and  suppressed  a sigh,  and  moved  to  the  table 
at  which  Mr.  Fledgeby  was  now  pouring  out  for  liimself 
a cup  of  steaming  and  fragrant  coffee,  from  a pot  that 
had  stood  ready  on  the  hob.  It  was  an  edifying  spectacle, 
the  young  man  in  his  easy-cbair  taking  his  coffee,  and  the 
old  man  with  his  grey  head  bent,  standing  awaiting  his 
pleasure. 

“ Now  1'^  said  Fledgeby.  Fork  out  your  balance  in 
hand,  and  prove  by  figures  how  you  make  it  out  that  it 
ain’t  more.  First  of  all,  light  tl]at  candle.” 

Eiah  obeyed,  and  then  taking  a bag  from  his  breast, 
and  referring  to  the  sum  in  the  accounts  for  which  they 
made  him  responsible,  told  it  out  upon  the  table. 
Fledgeby  told  it  again  with  great  care,  and  rang  every 
sovereign. 

I suppose,”  he  said,  taking  one  up  to  eye  it  closely, 
‘^you  haven’t  been  lightening  any  of  these  ; but  it’s  a trade 
of  your  people’s,  you  know.  You  understand  what  sweat- 
ing a pound  means  ; don’t  you  ?” 

Much  as  you  do,  Sir,”  returned  the  old  man,  with  hrs 
hands  under  opposite  cuffs  of  his  loose  sleeves,  as  he  stood 
at  the  table,  deferentially  observant  of  the  master’s  face. 

May  I take  the  liberty  to  say  something  ?” 

''  You  may,”  Fledgeby  graciously  conceded. 

*^Do  you  not.  Sir — without  intending  it — of  a surety 
without  intending  it — sometimes  mingle  the  character  I 
fairly  earn  in  your  employment  with  the  character  which 
it  is  your  policy  that  I should  bear  ?” 

I don’t  find  it  worth  my  while  to  cut  things  so 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


fine  as  to  go  into  the  inquiry/’  Fascination  coolly  an- 
swered. 

Not  in  justice  ?” 

Bother  justice  !”  said  Fledgeby. 

Not  in  generosity  ?” 

Jews  and  generosity  !”  said  Fledgeby.  That’s  a 
good  connection  ! Bring  out  your  vouchers,  and  don’t 
talk  Jerusalem  palaver.” 

The  voucliers  were  produced,  and  for  the  next  half  hour 
Mr.  Fledgeby  concentrated  his  sublime  attention  on 
them.  They  and  the  accounts  were  all  found  correct, 
and  the  books  and  the  papers  resumed  their  places  in 
the  bag. 

Next,”  said  Fledgeby,  “ concerning  that  bill-broking 
branch  of  the  business  ; .the  branch  I like  best.  What 
queer  bills  are  to  be  bong] it,  and  at  wliat  prices  ? You 
have  got  your  list  of  what’s  in  the  market  ?” 

‘‘  Sir,  a long  list,”  replied  Eiah,  taking  out  a pocket- 
book,  and  selecting  from  its  contents  a folded  paper, 
which,  being  unfolded,  became  a sheet  of  foolscap  covered 
with  close  writing. 

Whew  !”  whistled  Fledgeby,  as  he  took  it  in  his 
liand.  Queer  Street  is  full  of  lodgers  just  at  present  ! 
These  are  to  be  disposed  of  in  paiuels  ; are  they  ?” 

“ In  parcels  as  set  fortli,’^’  returned  the  old  man,  look- 
ing over  his  master’s  shoulder  ; ‘‘or  the  lump.” 

“ Half  the  lump  will  be  waste-paper^  one  knows  before- 
hand,” said  Fledgeby.  “ Can  you  get  it  at  waste-paper 
price  ? That’s  the  question.” 

Riali  shook  his  head,  and  Fledgeby  cast  his  small  eyes 
down  the  list.  Tliey  presently  began  to  twinkle,  and  be 
no  sooner  became  conscious  of  their  twinkling,  than  he 


OVR  MUTUAL  FlilEND. 


9 


looked  up  over  liis  shoulder  at  the  grave  face  above  him, 
and  moved  to  the  chimnej-piece.  Making  a desk  of  it, 
he  stood  there  with  liis  back  to  the  old  man,  warming  his 
knees,  perusing  the  list  at  liis  leisure,  and  often  returning 
* to  some  lines  of  it,  as  though  they  were  particularly  in- 
teresting. At  those  times  he  glanced  in  the  chimney 
glass  to  see  what  note  the  old  man  took  of  him.  He 
took  none  that  could  be  detected,  but,  aware  of  his  em- 
ployer’s suspicions,  stood  with  liis  eyes  on  the  ground* 

Mr.  Fledgeby  was  thus  amiably  engaged  when  a step 
was  heard  at  the  outer  door,  and  the  door  was  heard  to 
open  hastily.  ‘‘  Hark  1 That’s  your  doing,  you  Pump 
of  Israel,”  said  Fledgeby;  “you  can’t  have  shut  it*” 
Then  the  step  was  heard  within,  and  the  voice  of  Mr. 
Alfred  Lainmle  called  aloud,  “ Are  you  any  where  here, 
Fledgeby  ?”  To  which  Fledgeby,  after  cautioning  Riah 
ill  a low  voice  to  take  his  cue  as  it  should  be  given 
him,  replied,  “ Here  I am  1”  and  opened  his  bedroom 
door. 

“ Come  in  !”  said  Fledgeby.  “This  gentleman  is  only 
Pubsey  and  Co.  of  Saint  Mary  Axe,  that  I am  trying  to 
make  terms  for  an  unfortunate  friend  with  in  a matter  of 
some  dishonored  bills.  But  really  Pubsey  and  Co.  are  so 
strict  with  their  debtors,  and  so  hard  to  move,  that  I 
seem  to  be  wasting  my  time.  Can’t  I make  any  terms 
with  you  on  my  friend’s  part,  Mr.  Riah  ?” 

“ I am  but  the  representative  of  another.  Sir,”  returned 
the  Jew,  in  a low  voice.  “ I do  as  I am  bidden  by  my 
principal.  It  is  not  my  capital  that  is  invested  in 
the  busiuess.  It  is  not  my  profit  that  arises  there- 
from.” 

“ Ha,  ha  !”  laughed  Fledgeby.  “ Lammle  ?” 


10 


OUB  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


Ha,  lia  laughed  Lammle.  **  Yes.  Of  course. 
We  know.’’ 

'‘Deyilish  good,  ain’t  it,  Lammle?”  said  Fledgebr, 
unspeakably  amused  by  his  hidden  joke. 

Always  the  same,  always  the  same  I”  said  Lammle.^ 
Mr. ” 

Riah,  Pubsey,  and  Co.,  Saint  Mary  Axe,”  Fledgeby 
put  in,  as  he  wiped  away  the  tears  that  trickled  from  his 
eyes,  so  rare  was  his  enjoyment  of  his  secret  joke. 

Mr.  Riah  is  bound  to  observe  the  invariable  forms 
for  such  cases  made  and  provided,”  said  Lammle. 

“ He  is  only  the  representative  of  another  !”  cried 
Fledgeby.  Does  as  he  is  told  by  his  principal  ! Not 
liis  capital  that’s  invested  in  the  business.  Ob,  that’s 
good,  Ha  ha  ha  ha  1”  Mr.  Lammle  joined  in  the  laugh 
and  looked  knowing  ; and  the  more  he  did  both,  the 
more  exquisite  the  secret  joke  became  for  Mr.  Fledgeby. 

‘‘  However,”  said  that  fascinating  gentleman,  wiping 
his  eyes  again,  “ if  we  go  on  in  this  way,  we  sljall  seem 
to  be  almost  making  game  of  Mr.  Riah,  or  of  Pubsey  and' 
Co.,  Saint  Mary  Axe,  or  of  somebody  : which  is  far  from 
our  intention.  Mr.  Riah,  if  you  would  have  the  kindness 
to  step  into  the  next  room  for  a few  moments  while  I 
speak  with  Mr.  Lammle  here,  I should  like  to  try  to 
make  terms  with  you  once  again  before  you  go.” 

The  old  man,  who  had  never  raised  his  eyes  during  the 
whole  transaction  of  Mr.  Fledgeby’s  joke,  silently  bowed 
and  passed  out  by  the  door  which  Fledgeby  opened  for 
him.  Having  closed  it  on  him,  Fledgeby  returned  to 
Lammle,  standing  with  his  back  to  the  bedroom  fire,  with 
one  hand  under  his  coat-skirts,  and  all  his  whiskers  in  the 
other. 


ODK  MUTUAL  FKIEND, 


11 


Halloa  said  Flcclgeby.  Tliere^s  something 
wrong 

How  do  you  know  it  demanded  Lammle. 

Because  you  show  replied  Fiedgeby,  in  uninten- 
tional rhyme. 

Well  then  ; there  is/’  said  Lammle  ; there  is  some- 
thing wrong  ; the  whole  thing’s  wrong.” 

I say  !”  remonstrated  Fascination  very  slowly,  and 
sitting  down  with  his  hands  on  his  knees  to  stare  at  his 
glowering  friend  with  his  back  to  the  fire. 

‘‘  I tdl  you,  Fiedgeby,”  repeated  Lammle,  with  a sweep 
of  his  right  arm,  “ the  whole  thing’s  wrong.  The  game’s 
up.’^ 

“ What  game’s  up  ?”  demanded  Fiedgeby,  as  slowly  as 
before,  and  more  sternly. 

''  The  game.  Oun  game.  Read  that.” 

Fiedgeby  took  a note  from  his  extended  hand  and  read 
it  aloud,  Alfred  Lammle,  Esquire.  Sir  : Allow  Mrs. 
Podsnap  and  myself  to  express  our  united  sense  of  the 
polite  attentions  of  Mrs,  Alfred  Lammle  and  yourself 
toward  our  daughter,  Georgiana,  Allow  us  also  wholly 
to  reject  them  for  the  future,  and  to  communicate  our 
final  desire  that  the  two  families  may  become  entire 
strangers.  I have  the  honor  to  be,  Sir,  your  most 
obedient  and  very  humble  servant,  John  Ponsnap,” 
Fiedgeby  looked  at  the  three  blank  sides  of  this  note, 
quite  as  long  and  earnestly  as  ^t  the  first  expressive  side, 
and  then  looked  at  Lammle,  who  responded  with  another 
extensive  sweep  of  his  right  arm. 

Whose  doing  is  this?”  said  Fiedgeby. 

Impossible  to  imagine,”  said  Lammle. 

Perhaps,”  suggested  Fiedgeby,  after  reflecting  with  a 


12 


OVR  MUTUAL  FKIKNU. 


very  discontented  brow,  “ somebody  has  been  giving  you 
a bad  character/’ 

Or  you,”  said  Laminle,  with  a deeper  frown. 

Mr.  Fledgeby  appeared  to  be  on  the  verge  of  some 
mutinous  expressions,  when  his  hand  happened  to  touch 
his  nose.  A certain  remembrance  connected  with  that 
feature  operating  as  a timely  warning,  he  took  it  thought- 
fully between  his  thumb  and  forefinger  and  pondered  ; 
Laminle  meanwhile  eyeing  him'  witli  furtive  eyes. 

Well  !”  said  Fledgeby.  This  won’t  improve  with 
talking  about.  If  we  ever  find  out  who  did  it,  we’ll  mark 
that  person.  There’s  nothing  more  to  be  said,  except 
that  you  undertook  to  do  what  circumstances  prevent 
your  doing.” 

And  that  you  undertook  to  do  what  you  might  have 
done  by  this  time  if  you  had  made  a prompter  use  of  cir- 
cumstances,” snarled  Lammle. 

Hah  ! Tiiat,”  remarked  Fledgeby,  with  his  hands 
in  the  Turkish  trowsers,  is  matter  of  opinion.” 

Mr.  Fledgeby,”  said  Lammle,  in  a bullying  tone, 
am  I to  understand  that  you  in  any  way  reflect  upon 
me,  or  hint  dissatisfaction  with  me,  in  this  affair  ?” 

‘"No,”  said  Fledgeby;  provided  you  have  brought 
my  promissory  note  in  your  pocket,  and  now  hand  it 
over.” 

Lammle  produced  it,  not  without  reluctance.  Fledge- 
by looked  at  it,  identified  it,  twisted  it  up,  and  threw  it 
into  the  fire.  They  both  looked  at  it  as  it  blazed,  went 
oat,  and  flew  in  feathery  ash  up  the  chimney. 

jVow,  Mr.  Fledgeby,”  said  Lammle,  as  before  ; “am 
I to  undertand  that  you  in  any  way  reflect  upon  me,  or 
hint  dissatisfaction  with  me,  in  this  affair  ?” 


VVli  MUTUAL  FKIEKD. 


13 


No,”  said  Fledgeby. 

Finally  and  mireservedly  no  ?” 

Yes.”*^ 

Fledgeby,  my  band.” 

Mr.  Fledgeby  took  it,  saying,  ‘‘  And  if  we  ever  find 
out  who  did  this,  wedl  mark  that  person.  And  in  the 
most  friendly  manner  let  me  mention  one  thing  more.  I 
doidt  know  what  your  circumstances  are,  and  I doidt  ask 
You  have  sustained  a loss  here.  Many  men  are  liable  to 
be  involved  at  times,  and  you  may  be,  or  you  may  not 
be.  But  whatever  you  do,  Lammle,  don't — don't — don't, 
I beg  of  you — ever  fall  into  the  hands  of  Pubsey  and  Co. 
in  the  next  room,  for  they  are  grinders.  Begiilar  flayers 
and  grinders,  my  dear  Lammle,”  repeated  Fledgeby,  with 
a peculiar  relish,  “ and  they'll  skin  you  by  the  inch,  from 
the  nape  of  your  neck  to  the  sole  of  your  foot,  and  grind 
every  incli  of  your  skin  to  tooth-powder.  You  liave  seen 
what  Mr.  lliah  is.  Never  fall  into  his  hands,  Lammle,  I 
beg  of  you  as  a friend  1” 

Mr.  Lammle,  disclosing  some  alarm  at  the  solemnity 
of  this  affectionate  adjuration,  demanded  why  the  devil  he 
ever  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  Pubsey  and  Co.  ? 

To  confess  the  fact,  I was  made  a little  uneasy,”  said 
the  candid  Fledgeby,  “ by  the  manner  in  which  that  Jew 
looked  at  you  when  he  heard  your  name.  I didn't  like 
his  eye.  But  it  may  have  been  the  heated  fancy  of  a 
friend.  Of  course  if  you  are  sure  that  you  have  no  per- 
.sonal  security  out,  which  you  may  not  be  quite  equal  to 
meeting,  and  which  can  have  got  into  his  hands,  it  must 
have  been  fancy.  Still,  I didn't  like  his  eye.” 

The  brooding  Lammle,  with  certain  white  dints  coming 
and  going  in  his  palpitating  nose,  looked  as  if  s</me  tor- 


14 


OUH  MUTUAL  FHIKNI), 


meeting  imp  were  pincliiiig  it.  Fledgeby,  watching  liim 
with  a twitch  in  his  mean  face  which  did  duty  there  for 
a smile,  looked  very  like  the  tormentor  who  was  piiieh- 
ing. 

But  I mustift  keep  him  waiting  too  long/^  said 
Fledgeby,  or  hehl  revenge  it  on  my  unfortunate  friend. 
How’s  your  very  clever  and  agreeable  wife  ? She  knows 
we  have  broken  down 

I showed  her  the  letter.^^ 

Yery  much  surprised  asked  Fledgeby. 

I think  slie  would  have  been  more  so,’’  answered 
Lainmle,  “ if  there  had  been  more  go  in  you  ?” 

‘‘  Oh  ! — She  lays  it  upon  me,  then  ?” 

Mr.  Fledgeby,  I will  not  have  my  words  miscon- 
strued 

Don’t  break  out,  Lammle,”  urged  Fledgeby,  in  a 
submissive  tone,  because  there’s  no  occasion.  I only 

asked  a question.  Then  she  don’t  lay  it  upon  me  ? To 
ask  another  question.” 

No,  Sir.” 

“ Very  good,”  said  Fledgeby,  plainly  seeing  that  she 
did.  My  compliments  to  her.  Good-by  I” 

They  shook  hands,  and  Lammle  strode  out  pondering. 
Fledgeby  saw  him  into  the  fog,  and,  returning  to  the  fire 
and  musing  with  his  face  to  it,  stretched  the  legs  of  the 
rose*colored  Turkish  trowsers  wide  apart,  and  medita- 
tively bent  his  knees,  as  if  he  were  going  down  upon 
them* 

‘‘  You  have  a pair  of  whiskers,  Lammle,  which  I never 
liked,”  murmured  Fledgeby,  and  which  money  can't 
produce  ; you  are  boastful  of  your  manners  and  your  con- 
versation ; you  wanted  to  pull  my  nose,  and  you  liave  let 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND, 


15 


me  in  for' a failure,  and  your  wife  says  I am  tlie  cause  of 
it.  ni  bowl  you  down.  1 will,  though  I have  no 
whiskers,’’  here  he  rubbed  the  places  where  they  were 
due,  and  no  inannei*s,  and  no  conversation  !” 

Having  thus  relieved  his  noble  mind,  he  collected  the 
legs  of  the  Turkish  trowsers,  straightened  himself  on  his 
knees,  and  called  out  to  Riah  in  the  next  room,  “ Halloa, 
you  Sir  !”  At  sight  of  the  old  man  re-entering  Vvith  a 
gentleness  monstrously  in  contrast  with  the  character  he 
had  given  him,  Mr.  Fledgeby  was  so  tickled  again,  that 
he  exclaimed,  laughing,  Good  ! Good  ! Upon  ray 
soul  it  is  uncommon  good  I” 

Now,  old  ’un,”  proceeded  Fledgeby,  when  he  had  had 
his  laugh  out,  ‘^you’ll  buy  up  these  lots  that  I mark  with 
ray  pencil — there’s  a tick  there,  and  a tick  there,  and  a 
tick  there — and  I wager  twopence  you’ll  afterward  go  on 
a squeezing  those  Christians  like  the  Jew  you  are.  Now, 
next  you’ll  want  a check — or  you’ll  say  you  want  it, 
though  you’ve  capital  enough  somewhere,  if  one  only 
knew  where,  but  you’d  be  peppered  and  salted  and  grilled 
on  a gridiron  before  you’d  own  to  it — and  that  check  I’ll 
write.” 

When  he  had  unlocked  a drawer  and  taken  a key  from 
it  to  open  another  drawer,  in  which  was  another  key  that 
opened  anotlier  drawer,  in  which  was  another  key  that 
opened  another  drawer,  in  which  was  the  check-book  ; 
and  when  he  had  written  the  check  ; and  wlien,  reversing 
the  key  and  drawer  proce^ss,  he  had  placed  his  check- 
book in  safety  again,  he  beckoned  the  old  man,  with  the 
folded  check,  to  come  and  take  it. 

Old  ’un,”  said  Fledgeby,  when  the  Jew  had  put  it  in 
his  pocket-book,  and  was  putting  that  in  the  breast  of  his 


16 


OUK  MUTUAL  FKIENB. 


outer  garment ; “ so  much  «nt  present  for  my  affairs, 
'Now  a word  about  affairs  that  are  not  exactly  mine. 
Where  is  she 

With  his  hand  not  yet  withdrawn  from  the  breast  of 
his  garment,  Riah  started  and  paused. 

Oho  said  Fiedgeby.  Didn^t  expect  it  ! Where 
have  you  hidden  her 

Showing  that  he  was  taken  by  surprise,  the  old  man 
looked  at  his  master  with  some  passing  confusion,  which 
the  master  highly  enjoyed. 

Is  she  in  the  house  I pay  rent  and  taxes  for  in  Saint 
Mary  Axe  demanded  Fiedgeby. 

‘‘No,  Sir.^^ 

“ Is  she  in  your  garden  up  atop  of  that  house — gone 
up  to  be  dead,  or  whatever  the  game  is  TJ  asked 
Fiedgeby. 

“ No,  Sir.’’ 

“ Where  is  she  then 

Riab  bent  his  eyes  upon  the  ground,  as  if  considering 
whether  he  could  answer  the  question  without  breach  of 
faith,  and  then  silently  raised  them  to  Pledgeby’s  face,  as 
if  he  could  not. 

“ Come  1”  said  Fiedgeby.  “ I won’t  press  that  just 
now.  But  I want  to  know  this,  and  I will  know  this, 
mind  you;  What  are  you  up  to  ?” 

The  old  man,  with  an  apologetic  action  of  his  head  and 
liands,  as  not  comprehending  the  master’s  meaning,  ad- 
dressed to  him  a look  of  mute'inquiiy. 

“ You  can’t  be  a gallivanting  dodger,”  said  Fiedgeby, 

For  you’re  a ‘regular  pity  the  sorrows,’  you  know — if 
you  do  know  any  Christian  rhyme — ‘whose  trembling 
limbs  have  borne  him  to’ — et  cotrer.  You’re  one  of  the 


OUK  MUTUAL  FRIENP. 


17 


Patriarchs  ; youh’e  a shaky  old  card  ; and  you  can’t  be 
in  ]ove  with  this  Lizzie 

Oh,  Sir  !’^  expostulated  BialL  Oh,  Sir,  Sir,  Sir  !'^ 

“ Then  Avhy,”  retorted  Fledgeby,  with  some  slight 
tinge  of  a blush,  “ don’t  you  out  v.  ith  your  reason  for 
having  your  spoon  in  the  soup  at  all 

Sir,  I will  tell  you  the  truth.  But  (your  pardon  for 
the  stipulation)  it  is  in  sacred  confidence  ; it  is  strictly 
upon  honor.” 

'‘Honor  tool”  cried  Fledgeby,  with  a mocking  lip, 
" Honor  among  Jews.  AVell.  Cut  avvay.” 

" It  is  upon  honor,  Sir  ?”  the  other  still  stipulated, 
with  respectful  fiiminess. 

“ Oh,  certainly.  Honor  bright,”  said  Fledgeby. 

Tlie  old  man,  never  bidden  to  sit  down,  stood  with  an 
earnest  hnnd  laid  on  the  back  of  the  y^ung  man’s  eas\’- 
ciiair.  The  young  man  sat  looking  at  the  fire  with  a face 
of  listening  curiosity,  ready  to  cheek  him  off  and  catch 
him  tripping. 

"Cut  away,”  said  Fledgeby.  " Start  with  your 
motive.” 

" Sir,  I have  no  motive  but  to  lielp  the  helpless.” 

Mr.  Fledgeby  could  only  express  the  feelings  to  which 
this  incredible  statement  gave  rise  in  his  breast  by  a pro- 
digiously long  derisive  sniff. 

" How  I came  to  know,  and  much  to  esteem  and  to 
respect,  this  damsel,  I mentioned  when  you  saw  her  in  my 
poor  garden  on  the  house-top,”  said  the  Jew. 

" Did  you  ?”  said  Fledgel)y,  distrastfully.  " Well,  per- 
haps you  did,  thougli.” 

" The  better  I knew  her,  the  more  interest  I felt  in  her 
fortunes.  They  gathered  to  a crisis.  I found  her  beset 


18 


OTTR  MUTUAL  FEIEND. 


bj  a selfish  and  ungrateful  brother,  beset  by  an  unac- 
ceptable wooer,  beset  by  the  snares  of  a more  powerful 
lover,  beset  by  the  wiles  of  her  own  heart.” 

She  took  to  one  of  the  chaps  then 
‘‘  Sir,  it  was  only  natural  that  she  should  incline 
toward  him,  for  he  had  many  and  great  advantages. 
But  he  was  not  of  her  station,  and  to  marry  her  was  not 
in  his  mind.  Perils  were  closing  round  her,  and  the  circle 
was  fast  darkening,  when  I — being  as  you  have  said,  Sir, 
too  old  and  broken  to  be  suspected  of  any  feeling  for  her 
but  a father’s — stepped  in,  and  counseled  flight.  I said, 
‘ My  daughter,  there  are  times  of  moral  danger  when  the 
hardest  virtuous  resolution  to  form  is  flight,  and  when 
the  most  heroic  bravery  is  flight.’  She  answered,  she  had 
bad  this  in  her  thoughts  ; but  whither  to  fly  without  help 
she  knew  not,  and  there  were  none  to  help  her.  I showed 
her  there  was  one  to  help  her,  and  it  was  I.  And  she  Is 
gone.” 

What  did  you  do  with  her  ?”  asked  Fledgeby,  feel- 
ing his  cheek. 

I placed  her,”  said  the  old  man,  at  a distance 
witli  a gi’ave,  smooth,  outward  sweep  from  one  another 
of  his  two  open  hands  at  arm’s-length  ; ''  at  a distance — 
among  certain  of  our  people,  where  her  industry  would 
serve  her,  and  where  she  could  hope  to  exercise  it,-nnas- 
sailed  from  any  quarter.” 

Fledgeby’s  eyes  had  come  from  the  fire  to  notice  the 
action  of  his  hands  when  he  said  ‘^at  a distance.” 
Fledgeby  now  tried  (very  unsuccessfully)  to  imitate  that 
action,  as  he  shook  his  head  and  said,  ‘‘  Placed  her  in  that 
direction,  did  you  ? Oh  you  circular  old  dodger  !” 

With  one  hand  acros's  his  breast  and  "the  other  on  the 


OUR  MtrrUAL  FBTKND. 


19 


ensy-cliair,  Riab,  witliout  justifying*  himself,  waited  for 
further  questioning*.  But  that  it  was  hopeless  :o  question 
him  on  that  one  reseiwed  point,  Fiedgebj,  witl  his  small 
eyes,  too  near  together,  saw  full  well. 

Lizzie,’’  said  Fledgeby,  looking  at  the  fire  again,  and 
tlien  looking*  up.  Humph,  Lizzie.  You  didn’t  tell  me 
the  other  name  in  your  garden  atop  of  the  house.  I’ll  be 
more  communicative  with  you.  The  other  name’s 
Hexam.” 

Riah  bent  Ids  head  in  assent. 

Look  here,  you  Sir,”  said  Fledgeby.  ‘‘  1 have  a 
notion  I know  something  of  the  inveigling  chap,  the  pow- 
erful one.  Has  he  anything  to  do  with  the  law  ?” 
Yoininall^q  I believe  it  his  calling.” 

I thought  so.  Name  any  thing  like  Ligiitwood  ?” 
Sir,  not  at  all  like.” 

Come,  old  ’un,”  said  Fledgeby,  meeting  liis  eyes  with 
a wink,  “ say  the  name.” 

Wray  burn.” 

By  Jupiter  !”  cried  Fledgeby.  “ That  one,  is  it  ? 
I tlioiiglit  it  might  be  the  other,  but  I never  dreamt  of 
that  one  1 I sliouldn’t  object  to  your  balking  citiier  of 
the  pair,  dodger,  for  they  are  both  conceited  enough  ; but 
that  one  is  as  cool  a customer  as  ever  I met  with.  Got 
a beard  besides,  and  presumes  upon  it.  Well  done,  old 
’un  ! Go  on  and  prosper  !” 

Brightened  by  this  unexpected  commendation,  Riah 
asked  were  there  more  instructions  for  him  ? 

No,”  said  Fledgeby,  “ you  may  toddle  now,  Judah, 
and  grope  about  on  the  orders  you  have  got.”  Dismissed 
with  those  pleasing  words,  the  old  man  took  his  broad 
hat  and  staff  and  left  the  gi*eat  presenCci ; more  as  if  he 


20 


OUK  MUTUAL  FEIEOT. 


were  some  superior  creature  benignantly  blessing  Mi\ 
Fledgeby  than  the  poor  dependent  on  whom  he  set  his 
foot.  Left  alone,  Mr.  Fledgeby  locked  his  outer  door  and 
came  back  to  his  fire. 

Vfell  donu  you  V’  said  Fas'cination  to  himself.  Slow, 
you  may  be  ; sure,  you  are  This  he  twice  or  thrice 
repeated  with  inncli  complacency,  as  lie  again  dispersed 
the  legs  of  the  Turkish  trowsers  and  bent  the  knees. 

A tidy  sliot  that,  I flatter  myself, he  then  solilo* 
quizecl.  **  And  a Jew  brought  down  with  it  I Now, 
when  I heard  the  story  told  at  Lammle’s,  I didn’t  make 
a jump  at  Kiah.  Not  a bit  of  it  ; I got  at  him  by  de- 
grees.” Herein  be  was  quite  accurate  ; it  being  his  habit 
not  to  jump,  or  leap,  or  make  an  upward  spring,  at  any- 
thing in  life,  but  to  crawl  at  every  thing. 

I got  at  him,”  pursued  Fledgeby,  feeling  for  his 
wliiskei',  “ by  degrees.  If  your  Lnmmles  or  your  Light- 
woods  liad  got  at  him  anyhow,  they  would  have  asked 
him  the  question  whether  he  hadn’t  something  to  do  with 
that  gal’s  disappearance.  I knew  a better  wny  of  going 
to  work.  Having  got  behind  the  hedge,  and  put  him  in 
the  light,  I took  a shot  at  him  and  brought  him  down 
plump.  Oil  ! It  don’t  count  for  much,  being  a Jew,  in 
a match  against  me  /” 

Another  dry  twist  in  place  of  a smile  made  his  face 
crooked  here. 

“ xis  to  Christians,”  proceeded  Fledgeby,  '^lookout, 
fellow-Ciiristians,  particularly  you  that  lodge  in  Queer 
Street  ! I have  got  the  run  of  Queer  Street  now,  and 
you  shall  see  some  games  there.  To  work  a lot  of 
power  over  you  and  you  not  know  it,  knowing  as  you 
think  yourselves,  would  be  almost  worth,  laying  out 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.  • 


21 


money  upon.  But  when  it  comes  to  squeezing  a profit 
out  of  you  into  tlie  bargain,  it^s  sometliing  like 

With  this  apostrophe  Mr.  Fledgeby  appropriately  pro- 
ceeded to  divest  himself  of  his  Turkish  garments,  and 
invest  himself  with  Christian  attire.  Pending  which 
operation,  and  his  morning  ablutions,  and  his  anointing 
of  himself  with  the  last  infallible  preparation  for  the  pro- 
duction of  luxuriant  and  glossy  hair  upon  the  human 
countenance  (quacks  being  the  only  sages  he  believed  in 
besides  usurers),  the  murky  fog  closed  about  him  and  shut 
him  up  in  its  sooty  embrace.  If  it  had  never  let  him  out 
any  more,  the  world  would  have  had  no  irreparable  loss, 
but  could  have  easily  replaced  him  from  its  stock  on  hand. 


22 


OVE  MUTUAI.  FEIRND. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A RESPECTED  FRIEND  IN  A NEW  ASPECT. 

In  the  evening  of  this  same  foggy  day  when  the  yellow 
window-blind  of  Pubsey  and  Co.  was  drawn  down  upon 
the  day^s  work,  Riah  the  Jew  once  more  came  forth  into 
Saint  Mary  Axe.  But  this  time  he  carried  no  bag,  and 
was  not  bound  on  his  master’s  affairs.  He  passed  over 
London  Bridge,  and  returned  to  the  Middlesex  shore  by 
that  of  Westminster,  and  so,  ever  wading  through  the 
fog,  waded  to  the  door-step  of  the  do! is’  dress-maker. 

Miss  Wren  expected  him.  He  could  see  her  through 
the  window  by  the  light  of  her  low  fire — carefully  banked 
up  with  damp  cinders  that  it  might  last  the  longer  and 
waste  the  less  when  she  was  out — sitting  waiting  for  him 
in  her  bonnet.  His  tap  at  the  glass  roused  her  from  the 
musing  solitude  in  which  she  sat,  and  she  came  to  the 
door  to  open  it ; aiding  her  steps  with  a little  crutch-  , 
stick. 

“ Good-evening,  godmother  !”  said  Miss  Jenny  Wren. 

The  old  man  laughed,  and  gave  her  his  arm  to  lean  on. 

“ Won’t  you  come  in  and  warm  yourself,  godmother?”^ 
asked  Miss  Jenny  Wren. 

**  Not  if  you  are  ready,  Cinderella,  my  dear.” 

Well !”  exclaimed  Miss  Wren,  delighted.  “ Now 
you  ARE  a clever  old  boy  1 If  we  gave  prizes  at  this 


OUK  MUTUAL  FKIEND. 


23 


establishmeDt  (but  we  only  keep  blanks),  you  should  have 
the  first  silver  medal  for  taking  me  up  so  quick.”  As  she 
spake  thus,  Miss  Wren  removed  the  key  of  the  house- 
door  from  the  key-hole  and  put  it  in  her  pocket,  and  then 
bustliogly  closed  the  door,  and  tried  it  as  they  botli  stood 
on  the  step.  Satisfied  that  her  dwelling  was  safe,  she 
drew  one  hand  through  the  old  man^s  arm  and  prepared 
to  ply  her  crutch-stick  with  the  other.  But  the  key  was 
an  instrument  of  such  gigantic  proportions,  that  before 
they  started  Riah  proposed  to  carry  it. 

No,  no,  no  ! I^il  carry  it  myself,”  returned  Miss 
Wren.  Pm  awfully  lopsided,  you  know,  and  stowed 
down  in  my  pocket  ithl  trim  the  ship.  To  let  you  into  a 
secret,  godmother,  I wear  my  pocket  on  my  high  side, 
o’  purpose.” 

With  that  they  began  their  plodding  through  the  fog. 

“ Yes,  it  was  truly  sharp  of  you,  godmother,”  resumed 
Miss  Wren  with  great  approbation,  ‘‘to  understand  me. 
But,  you  see,  you  arc  so  like  the  fairy  godmother  in  the 
bright  little  books  ! You  look  so  unlike  the  rest  of  peo- 
ple, and  so  much  as  if  you  had  changed  yourself  into  that 
shape,  just  this  moment,  with  some  benevolent  object. 
Boh  !”  cried  Miss  Jenny,  putting  her  face  close  to  the  old 
man’s.  “ I can  see  your  features,  godmother,  behind  the 
beard.” 

“ Does  the  fancy  go  to  my  changing  other  objects  too, 
Jenny  ?” 

“ Ah  ! That  it  does  I If  you’d  only  borrow  my  stick 
and  tap  this  piece  of  pavement — this  dirty  stone  that  my 
foot  taps — it  would  start  up  a coach  and  six.  I say  ! 
Let’s  believe  so  !” 

“ With  all  my  heart,”  replied  the  good  old  man 


24 


OUB  MUTUAL  FBIEND. 


And  ril  tell  5^ou  what  I must  ask  you  to  do,  god- 
mother. I must  ask  you  to  be  so  kind  as  aive  mv  child  a 
tap,  and  cliange  him  altogether,  O my  child  has  been 
such  a bad,  bad  child  of  late  ! It  worries  me  nearly  out 
of  my  wits.  Kot  done  a stroke  of  work  these  ten  days. 
Has  had  the  horrors,  too,  and  fancied  that  four  copper- 
colored  men  in  red  wanted  to  throw  him  into  a lieiy 
furnace,^’ 

But  thafs  dangerous,  Jenny.” 

Dangerous,  godmother  ? My  bad  child  is  always 
dangerous,  more  or  less.  He  might” — here  the  little 
ci'eatiire  glanced  back  over  her  shoulder  at  the  sky — “be 
setting  the  house  on  fire  at  this  present  moment.  I don’t 
know  who  would  have  a child,  for  my  part ! Itks  no  use 
shaking  liiin.  I have  shaken  him  till  I have  made  myself 
giddy.  ‘ Why  doii^t  you  mind  your  Commandments  and 
honor  your  parent,  you  naughty  old  boy  V I said  to  him 
ail  the  time.  But  lie  only  whimpered  and  stared  at  me.” 
“ Wiiat  shall  be  changed,  after  him  asked  Riah,  in  a 
compassionately  playful  voice. 

“ Upon  my  word,  godmother,  I am  afraid  I must  be 
selfish  next,  and  get  you  to  set  me  right  in  the  back  and 
the  legs.  It’s  a little  thing  to  you  with  }X)nr  power,  god- 
mother, but  it’s  a great  deal  to  poor  weak  aching  me,” 
There  was  no  querulous  complaining  in  the  words,  but 
they  were  not  the  less  touching  for  that, 

“And  then  ?” 

“ Yes,  and  then — you  know,  godmother.  We’ll  both 
biinp  np  into  the  coach  and  six  and  go  to  Lizzie.  This 
reminds  me,  godmother,  to  ask  you  a serious  question. 
You  are  as  wise  as  wise  can  be  (having  been  brought  up 
by  the  faries),  and  you  can  tell  me  this  : Is  it  better  to 


OUR  MU^fUAL  FRIEND. 


25 


have  had  a good  thing  and  lost  it,  or  never  to  have 
had  it  r 

''  Explain,  god-daughter,’’ 

I feel  so  much  more  solitary  and  helpless  without 
Lizzie  now,  than  I used  to  feel  before  I knew  her.” 
(Tears  were  in  her  eyes  as  she  said  so.) 

Some  beloved  companionship  fades  out  of  most  lives, 
my  dear,”  said  the  Jew — that  of  a wife,  and  a fair 
daughter,  and  a son  of  promise,  has  faded  out  of  my  own 
life — but  the  happiness  was.” 

Ah  !”  said  Miss  Wren  thoughtfully,  by  no  means 
convinced,  and  chopping  the  exclamation  with  that  sharp 
little  hatchet  of  hers  ; “ then  I tell  you  what  change  I 
think  you  had  better  begin  with,  godmother.  You  had 
better  change  Is  into  Was  and  Was  into  Is,  and  keep 
them  so.” 

Would  that  suit  your  case  ? W ould  you  not  be 
always  in  pain  then  ?”  asked  the  old  man,  tenderly. 

“Right!”  exclaimed  Miss  Wren  with  another  chop. 
“You  have  changed  me  wiser,  godmother. — Not,”  she 
added  with  the  quaint  hitch  of  her  chin  and  eyes, 
“ that  you  need  be  a very  wonderful  godmother  to  do 
that  deed.” 

Thus  conversing,  and  having  crossed  Westminster 
Bridge,  they  traversed  the  ground  that  Riah  had  lately 
traversed,  and  new  ground  likewise  ; for,  when  they  had 
recrossed  the  Thames  by  way  of  London  Bridge,  they 
struck  down  by  the  river  and  held  their  still  foggier  course 
that  way. 

But  previously,  as  they  were  going  along,  Jenny  twisted 
her  venerable  friend  aside  to  a brilliantly-lighted  toy-shop 
window,  and  said  : “ Now  look  at  ’em  ! Ail  my  work  1” 
This  referred  tb  a dazzling  Bemicircle  of  dolls  in  all  tho 


26 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


colors  of  the  rainbow,  who  were  dressed  for  presentation 
at  court,  for  going  to  balls,  for  going  out  driving,  for 
going  out  on  horseback,  for  going  out  walking,  for  going 
to  get  married,  for  going  to  help  other  dolls  to  get  mar- 
ried, for  all  the  gay  events  of  life. 

Pretty,  pretty,  pretty  !”  said  the  old  man  with  a clap 
of  his  hands.  Most  elegant  taste 

“Glad  you  like  ’em,”  returned  Miss  Wren,  loftily. 

“ But  the  fun  is,  godmother,  how  I make  the  great  ladies 
try  my  dresses  on.  Though  it’s  the  hardest  part  of  my 
business,  and  would  be,  even  if  my  back  rvere  not  bad  and 
my  legs  queer.” 

He  looked  at  her  as  not  understanding  what  she  said. 
“Bless  you,  godmother,”  said  Miss  Wren,  “ I have  to 
scud  about  town  at  all  hours.  If  it  was  only  sitting  at 
my  bench,  cutting  out  and  sewing,  it  would  be  compara- 
tively easy  work  ; but  it’s  the  trying-on  by  the  great 
ladies  that  takes  it  out  of  me.” 

“ How,  the  trying-on  ?”  asked  Blah. 

“ What  a mooney  godmother  you  are,  after  all  !”  re- 
turned Miss  Wren.  “ Look  here.  There’s  a Drawing- 
Room,  or  grand  day  in  the  Park,  or  a Show,  or  a Fete, - 
or  what  you  like.  Very  well.  I squeeze  among  the 
crowd,  and  I look  about  me.  When  I see  a great  lady 
very  suitable  for  my  business,  I say,  ‘ You’ll  do,  my  dear !’ 
and  I take  particular  notice  of  her,  and  run  home  and  cut 
her  out  and  baste  her.  Then  another  day  I come  scud- 
ding back  again  and  try  on,  and  then  I take  particular 
notice  of  her  again.  Sometimes  she  plainly  seems  to  say, 

* How  that  little  creature  is  staring  !’  and  sometimes  likes 
it  and  sometimes  don’t,  but  much  more  often  yes  than  no. 
All  the  time  I am  only  saying  to  myself,  must  hollow 
out  a bit  here  ; I must  slope  away  there  and  I am  mak* 


OVn  MUTUAL  FlilEND* 


2T 


ing  «n,  perfect  slave  of  her,  with  making  her  try  on  my 
doll’s  dress.  Evening  parties  are  severer  work  for  1110^ 
because  there’s  only  a doorway  for  a full  vie\^,  and  wlnit 
with  hobbling  among  the  wheels  of  the  carriages  and  the 
legs  of  the  horses,  I fully  expect  to  be  run  over  some 
night.  However  there  I have  ’em,  just  the  same.  When 
they  go  bobbing  into  the  hall  from  the  carriage,  and 
catch  a glimpse  of  my  little  physiognomy  poked  out  from 
behind  a policeman’s  capo  in  the  rain,  I dare  say  they 
think  I am  wondering  and  admiring  with  all  my  eyes  and 
heart,  but  they  little  think  tiiey’rc  only  working  for  my 
dolls  ! There  was  Lady  Belinda  AYliitrose.  I made  her 
do  double  duty  in  one  night.  I said  when  slie  came  out 
of  tlie  carriage,  ^ You^W  do,  my  dear  !’  and  I ran  straiglit 
liome  and  cut  her  out  and  basted  lier.  B:ick  I came 
again,  and  waited  behind  the  men  that  called  the  car- 
riages. Very  bad  night  too.  At  last,  ‘Lady  Belinda 
Whitrose’s  carriage  ! Lady  Belinda  Whitrose  coining 
down  !’  And  I made  her  try  on — oli  ! and  take  pains 
about  it  too — before  she  got  seated.  That’s  Lady  Be- 
linda banging  up  by  the  waist,  much  too  near  the  gaslight 
for  a wax  one,  with  her  toes  turned  in.” 

Y/hen  they  had  plodded  on  for  some  time  nigli  the 
river,  Riali  asked  the  way  to  a certain  tavern  called  the 
Six  Jolly  Fellowshi})  Porters.  Following  the  direciions 
he  received,  they  arrived,  after  two  or  three  puzzled  stop- 
pages for  consideration,  and  some  uncertain  looking  about 
tiicin,  at  the  door  of  Miss  Abbey  Potterson’s^  dominions. 
A peep  through  the  glass  portion  of  the  door  revealed  to 
them  the  glories  of  the  bur,  and  Miss  Abbey  herseff  seated 
in  state  on  her  snug  tlirone,  reading  the  newspaper.  To 
whom,  with  deference,  they  presented  themselves. ' 


28 


OUR  MUTUAL  FKIEKU, 


Taking  her  eyes  off  her  newspaper,  and  pausing  with 
a suspended  expression  of  countenance,  as  if  slie  must 
finish  the  paragraph  in  hand  before  undertaking  any  other 
business  whatever,  Miss  Abbey  demanded,  with  some 
slight  asperity  : Now  then,  what^s  for  you 

Could  we  see  Miss  Potterson  asked  the  old  man 
uncovering  his  head. 

“ You  not  only  could,  but  you  can  and  you  do,^^  re- 
plied the  hostess. 

“ Might  we  speak  with  you,  madam  V* 

By  this  time  Miss  Abbey’s  eyes  had  possessed  them- 
selves  of  the  small  figure  of  Miss  Jenny  Wren.  For  the 
closer  observation  of  whicli,  Miss  Abbey  laid  aside  her 
newspaper,  rose,  and  looked  over  the  halfidoor  of  the  bar. 
The  crutch-stick  seemed  to  entreat  for  its  owner  leave  to 
come  in  and  rest  by  the  fire  ; so  Miss  Abbey  opened  the 
half-door,  and  said,  as  thougli  replying  to  the  crutch-stick: 
Yes,  come  in  and  rest  by  the  fire.” 

My  name  is  Riah,”  said  the  old  man,  with  courteous 
action,  ‘‘and  my  avocation  is  in  London  city.  This,  my 
young  companion — ” 

“ Stop  a bit,”  interposed  Miss  Wren.  “ I’ll  give  the 
lady  my  card.”  She  produced  it  from  her  pocket  with 
an  air,  after  struggling  with  the  , gigantic  door-key  which 
had  got  upon  the  top  of  it  and  kept  it  down.  Miss  Ab- 
bey, with  manifest  tokens  of  astonishment,  took  the 
diminutive  document,  and  found  it  to  run  conciseiy  thus  : 

MISS  JENNY  WREN, 

DOLL’S  DRESS-MAKER. 


Dolls  attended  at  their  own  Residences. 


OUB  MTJTUAI.  FBIEJTD. 


29 


Lnd  exclaimed  Miss  Potterson,  staring.  And 
dropped  the  card. 

Wc  take  the  libeid.y  of  coming,  my  yonng  companion 
and  I,  madam/^  said  Riah,  ‘‘  on  behalf  of  Lizzie  Hexam.’’ 

Miss  Potterson  was  stooping  to  loosen  the  bonnet- 
strings  of  the  dolls’  dress- maker.  She  looked  round  rather 
angrily,  and  said  : Lizzie  Hexam  is  a very  proud  young 

woman. 

“ She  would  be  sb  proud, returned  Riah,  dexterously, 
“to  stand  well  in  your  good  opinion,  that  before  she 
quitted  London  for — ” 

“ For  where,  in  the  name  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope 
asked  Miss  Potterson,  as  though  supposing  her  to  have 
emigrated. 

“ For  the  country,”  v/as  the  cautious  answer — “ she 
made  us  promise  to  comc*^ and  show  you  a paper,  which 
she  left  in  our  hands  for  that  special  purpose.  I am  an 
unserviceable  friend  of  hers,  who  began  to  know  her  aft  r 
her  departure  from  this  neighborhood.  She  has  been  for 
some  time  living  with  my  young  companion,  and  iias  been 
a helpful  and  a comfortable  friend  to  her.  iMuch  needed, 
madam,”  he  added,  in  a lower  voice.  “Believe  me;  if 
you  knew  all,  much  needed.” 

“ I can  believe  that,”  said  Miss  Abbey,  with  a soften- 
ing glance  at  the  little  creature. 

“ And  if  it’s  proud  to  have  a heart  that  never  hardens, 
and  a temper  that  never  tires,  and  a touch  that  never 
hurts,”  Miss  Jenny  struck  in,  flushed,  “she  is  proud. 
And  if  it’s  not,  she  is  not.” 

Her  set  purpose  of  contradicting  Miss  Abbey  point- 
blank,  was  so  far  from  offending  that  dread  authority  as 
to  elicit  a gracious  smile.  “ You  do  right,  child,”  said 


so 


OUR  IyIUTUAL  friend. 


Miss  Abbey,  to  speak  well  of  those  who  deserve  well 
of  yon.’’ 

Itigl'.t  or  wrong,”'  muttered  Miss  'Wren,  inaiidibly, 
witli  a visible  hitch  of  lier  cliin,  ‘‘  I mean  to  do  it,  and 
you  may  make  up  your  mind  to  tkat^  old  lady.” 

‘‘  Ilei'e  is  tlie  paper,  madam,”  said  the  Jew,  delivering 
into  Miss  Potterson’s  liands  the  original  document  drawn 
up  by  Pekesmith,  and  signed  by  Riderliood.  Will  you 
please  to  read  it  ?” 

^‘But  first  of  all,”  said  Miss  Abbey,  — did  you  ever 
taste  shrub,  child  ?” 

Miss  Wren  shook  her  head. 

Should  you  like  to  ?” 

Should  if  it’s  good,”  replied  Miss  Wren. 

You  shall  try.  And  if  you  find  it  good,  PH  mix 
some  for  you  with  hot  water.  Put  your  poor  little  feet 
on  the  fender.  It’s  a cold,  cold  night,  and  the  fog  clings 
so.  As  Miss  Abbey  helped  her  to  turn  lier  chair  her 
loosened  bonnet  dropped  on  the  floor.  “Why,  what 
lovely  iiair  !”  cried  Miss  Abbey.  “ And  enough  to  make 
wigs  for  all  the  dolls  in  the  world.  What  a quantity  !” 
“ Call  that  a quantity  ?”  returned  Miss  YJ ren.  “ Poof  1 
What  do  you  say  to  the  rest  of  it  ?”  As  she  spoke,  slie 
untied  a band,  and  the  golden  stream  fell  over  herself  and 
over  the  chair,  and  flowed  down  to  the  ground.  Miss 
Abbey’s  admiration  seemed  to  increase  her  perplexity. 
She  beckoned  the  Jew  toward  her,  as  she  reached  down 
the  slirnb-bottle  from  its  niche,  and  whispered  : 

“ Child,  or  woman  ?” 

“ Child  in  ycors,”  was  the  answer  ; woman  in  self- 
reliance  and  trial.” 

“ You  are  talking  about  Me,  good  people,”  thought 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


31 


Miss  Jenny,' sitting  in  lier  golden  bower,  warming  her 
feet.  I can^t  hear  what  you  say,  bub  I know  your  tricks 
and  your  manners  1’^ 

The  shrub,  wlien  tasted  from  a spoon,  perfectly  har- 
monizing with  Miss  Jenny’s  palate,  a judicious  amount 
was  mixed  by  Miss  Potterson’s  skillful  hands,  whereof 
Pdah  too  partook.  After  this  preliminary  Miss  Abbey 
read  the  document ; and,  as  often  as  she  raised  her  eye- 
brows in  so  doing,  the  watchful  Miss  Jenny  accompanied 
the  action  with  an  expressive  and  emphatic  sip  of  the 
shrub  and  water. 

^‘As  far  as  this  goes,”  said  Miss  Abbey  Potterson, 
when  she  had  read  it  several  times,  and  thought  about 
it,  it  proves  (what  didn't  much  need  proving)  that 
Pogue  Piderhood  is  a villain.  I have  my  doubts  whether 
he  is  not  the  villain  who  solely  did  the  deed  ; but  I have 
no  expectation  of  those  doubts  ever  being  cleared  up 
now.  I believe  I did  Lizzie’s  father  wrong,  but  never 
Lizzie’s  self ; because  when  things  were  at  the  worst  I 
trusted  her,  liad  perfect  confidence  in  her,  and  tried  to 
persuade  her  to  come  to  me  for  a refuge.  I am  very  sorry 
to  have  done  a man  wrong,  particularly  when  it  can’t  be 
undone.  Be  kind  enough  to  let  Lizzie  know  what  I say, 
not  forgetting  that  if  she  will  come  to  the  Porters,  after 
all,  by-gones  being  by-gones,  she  will  find  a home  at  the 
Porters,  and  a friend  at  the  Porters.  She  knows  Miss 
Abbey  of  old,  remind  her,  and  she  knows  what-like  the 
home,  and  Vvdiat-like  tlie  friend,  is  likely  to  turn  out.  I 
am  generally  short  and  sweet — or  short  and  sour,  accord- 
ing as  it  may  be  and  as  opinions  vary — ” remarked  Miss 
Abbey,  ‘‘  and  that’s  about  all  I have  got  to  sa}^,  and 
enough  too.” 


S2 


OUE  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


But  before  the  shrub  and  water  was  sipped  out,  Miss 
Abbey  bethought  lierself  tliat  she  would  like  to  keep  a 
copy  of  the  paper  by  her.  It^s  not  long,  Sir/^  said  she 
to  Riah,  “ and  perhaps  you  wouldn’t  mind  just  jotting  it 
down.”  The  old  man  willingly  put  on  his  spectacles,  and, 
standing  at  the  little  desk  in  the  corner  where  Miss  Ab- 
bey filed  her  receipts  and  kept  her  sample  vials  (custom- 
ers’ scores  were  interdicted  by  the  strict  administration  cf 
tlie  Porters),  wrote  out  the  copy  in  a fair  round  character. 
As  he  stood  there,  doing  his  methodical  penmanship,  his 
ancient  scribe-like  figure  intent  upon  the  work,  and  the 
little  dolls’  dress-maker  sitting  in  her  golden  bower  before 
the  fire,  Miss  Abbey  had  her  doubts  whether  she  had  not 
dreamed  those  two  rare  figures  into  the  bar  of  the  Six 
Jolly  Fellowships,  and  might  not  wake  with  a nod  next 
moment  and  find  them  gone. 

Miss  Abbey  had  twice  made  the  experiment  of  shutting 
her  eyes  and  opening  them  again,  still  finding  the  figures 
there,  when,  dream-like,  a confused  hubbub  arose  in  the 
public  room.  As  she  started  up,  and  they  all  three 
looked  at  one  another,  it  became  a noise  of  clamoring 
voices  and  of  the  stir  of  feet ; then  all  the  windows  were 
heard  to  be  hastily  thrown  open,  and  shouts  and  cries 
came  floating  into  the  house  from  the  river.  A moment 
more,  and  Bob  Gliddery  came  clattering  along  the  pas- 
sage, with  the  noise  of  all  the  nails  in  his  bools  condensed 
into  every  separate  nail. 

“ What  is  it  ?”  asked  Miss  Abbey. 

It’s  summut  run  down  in  the  fog,  ma’am,”  answered 
Bob.  There’s  ever  so  many  people  in  the  river.” 

‘‘  Tell  ’em  to  put  on  all  the  kettles  !”  cried  Miss  Abbey. 
**  See  that  the  boiler’s  full.  Get  a bath  out.  Hang  some 


OUii  ML'TDAL  FlUEND. 


blankets  to'  the  fire.  Heat  some  stone  bottles.  Have 
your  senses  about  you,  you  girls  down  stairs,  and  use 

While  Afiss  Abbey  partly  delivered  these  directions  to 
Bob — whom  she  seized  by  the  hair,  and  whose  bead  she 
knocked  against  tlie  wall,  as  a general  injunction  to  vigb 
lance  and  presence  of  mind— and  partly  hailed  the  kitchen 
with  them — the  company  in  the  public  room,  jostling  one 
*“anotlier,  rushed  out  to  the  causeway,  and  the  outer  noise 
increased. 

Come  and  look,’^  said  Miss  Abbey  to  lier  visitors. 
They  all  three  hurried  to  the  vacated  public  room,  and 
passed  by  one  of  the  windows  into  the  wooden  veranda 
overhanging  the  river. 

‘‘  Does  any  body  down  there  know  what  has  happened  V'^ 
demanded  Miss  Abbey,  in  her  voice  of  authority. 

“ It^s  a steamer,  Aliss  .Abbey,^^  cried  one  blurred  figure 
in  the  fog.  . 

Jt  always  is  a steamer,  Mis§  Abbey,”  cried  another. 

‘^Them’s  her  lights,  Aliss  Abbey,  wot  you  see  a-blink- 
lug  yonder,”  cried  another. 

''  She’s  a-blowing  off  her  steam,  Aliss  Abbey,  and  that’s 
what  makes  the  fog  and  the  noise  worse,  don’t  you  see  ?” 
"explained  another. 

' Boats  were  putting  off,  torches  were  lighting  up,  people 
were  rushing  tumultuously  to  the  water’s  edge.  Some 
man  fell  in  with  a splash,  and  was  pulled  out  again  with 
a roar  of  laughter.  The'drags  were  called  for.  A cry 
for  the  lifc‘buoy  passed  from  mouth  to  month.  It  was 
impossible  to  make  out  what  was  going  on  upon  tlie 
river,  for  every  boat  that  put  off  sculled  into  the  fog  and 
was  lost  to  view  at  a boat’s-length.  Nothing  was  clear 
but  that  the  unpopular  steamer  was  assailed  with  re« 


S4 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


proaches  on  nil  sides.  She  was  the  Murderer,  bound  for 
Gallows  Bay  ; slie  was  the  Manslaughterer,  bound  for 
Penal  Settlement ; her 'captain  ought  to  be  tried  for  his 
life  ; her  crew  ran  down  men  in  row-boats  witli  a relish  ; 
she  mashed  up  Thames  lighter-men  with  her  paddles ; she 
fired  jmoperty  with  her  funnels  ; she  always  was,  and  she 
always  would  be,  wreaking  destruction  upon  somebody  or 
something,  after  the  manner  of  all  her  kind.  The  whole 
bulk  of  the  fog  teemed  with  such  taunts,  uttered  in  tones 
of  universal  hoarseness.  All  the  while  the  steamer^s 
lights  moved  spectrally  a very  little,  as  she  lay-to,  waiting 
the  upshot  of  whatever  accident  had  happened.  Now  she 
began  burning  blue-lights.  These  made  a luminous  patch 
about  her,  as  if  she  had  set  the  fog  on  fire,  and  in  the 
patch — the  cries  changing  their  note,  and  becoming  more 
fitful  and  more  excited — shadows  of  men  and  boats  could 
be  seen  moving,  while  voices  shouted  : There  There 

again  “ A couple  mq^’e  strokes  ahead  1’^  Hurrah 

Look  out  “ Hold  on  !”  Haul  in  f ’ and  the  like. 
Lastly,  with  a few  tumbling  clots  of  blue  fire,  the  night 
closed  in  dark  again,  the  wheels  of  the  steamer  were 
heard  revolving,  and  her  lights  glided  smoothly  away  in 
the  direction  of  the  sea. 

It  appeared  to  Miss  Abbey  and  her  two  companions 
that  a considerable  time  had  been  thus  occupied.  There 
was  now  as  eager  a set  toward  the  shore  beneath  the 
liouse  as  tliere  had  been  from  it ; and  it  was  only  on  the 
first  boat  of  the  rush  coming  in  that  it  was  known  what 
had  occurred. 

If  thaPs  Tom  Tootle,^'  Miss  Abbey  made  proclama- 
tion, in  her  most  commanding  tones,  ‘‘  let  him  instantly 
come  underneath  here.’’ 


OUK  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


35 


Tlie  submissive  Tom  complied,  at  tee  cl  ed  by  a crowd. 
Wliat  is  it,  Tootle  V'  demanded  Miss  Abbey. 

It’s  a foreign  steamer.  Miss,  run  down  a wherry.’’ 
How  many  in  the  wherry  ?” 

One  man.  Miss  Abbey.” 

Found  ?” 

‘‘  Yes.  Tie’s  been  under  water  a long  time.  Miss  ; but 
they’ve  grappled  up  the  body.” 

‘‘  Let  ’em  bring  it  liere.  You,  Bob  Gliddery,  shut  the 
house-door,  and  stand  by  it  on  the  inside,  and  don’t  you 
open  it  till  I tell  you.  Any  police  down  there  ?” 

Here,  Miss  xVbbey,”  was  official  rejoinder. 

After  they  have  brought  the  body  in,  keep  the  crowd 
out,  will  you  ? And  help  Bob  Gliddery  to  shut  ’em  out.” 
All  right,  Miss  Abbey.” 

The  autocratic  landlady  withdrew  into  the  house  with 
Riah  and  Aliss  Jenny,  and  disposed  those  forces,  one  on 
either  side  of  her,  within  the  half-door  of  the  bar,  as  be- 
hind a breast-work. 

‘‘  You  two  stand  close  here,”  said  Miss  Abbey,  and 
you’ll  come  to  no  hurt,  and  see  it  brought  in.  Bob,  you 
stand  by  the  door.” 

That  sentinel,  smartly  giving  bis  rolled  shirt-sleeves  an 
extra  and  a final  tuck  on  his  shoulders,  obeyed. 

Sound  of  advancing  voices,  sound  of  advancing  steps. 
Sliuffle  and  talk  without.  Momentary  pause.  Two  pe- 
culiarly blunt  knocks  or  pokes  at  the  door,  as  if  the  dead 
man  arriving  on  his  back  were  striking  at  it  with  the  soles 
of  his  motionless  feet. 

That’s  the  stretcher,  or  tlie  shutter,  whichever  of  the 
two  they  are  carrying,”  said  Miss  Abbey,  with  experien- 
ced ear.  Open,  you  Bob  1” 


36 


013R  MUTUAL  FKIP:ND, 


Boor  opened.  Heavy  tread  of  laden  men.  A halt. 
A rush.  Stoppage  of  rush.  Boor  shut.  Baffled  hoots 
from  the  vexed  souls  of  disappointed  outsiders. 

Come  on,  men  said  Miss  Abbey  ; for  so  potent 
was  she  with  her  subjects  that  even  then  the  bearers 
awaited  her  permission.  First  floor.’^ 

The  entry  being  low,  and  the  staircase  being  low,  they 
so  took  up  the  burden  they  had  set  down  as  to  carry  that 
low.  Tiie  recumbent  figure,  in  passing,  lay  hardly  as 
high  as  tlie  half  door. 

Miss  Abbey  started  back  at  sight  of  it.  “ Why,  good 
God  !”  said  she,  turning  to  her  two  companions,  that’s 
the  very  man  who  made  the  declaration  we  have  just  had 
in  our  hands.  That’s  Riderhood  !" 


OTJB  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


37 


CHAPTER  HI. 

THE  SANE  RESPECTED  FRIEND  IN  MORE  ASPECTS  THAN  ONE. 

In  sooth,  it  is  Riclerhood  and  no  other,  or  it  is  the 
outer  husk  and  shell  of  Riderhood  and  no  other,  that  is 
borne  into  Miss  Abbey’s  first-floor  bedroom.  Supple  to 
twist  and  turn  as  the  Rogue  has  ever  been,  he  is  sufficient- 
ly rigid  now  ; and  not  without  much  shuffling  of  attend- 
ant feet,  and  tilting  of  his  bier  this  way  and  that  way, 
and  peril  even  of  his  sliding  off  it  and  being  tumbled  in  a 
heap  over  the  balustrades,  can  he  be  got  up  stairs. 

“ Fetch  a doctor,”  quoth  Miss  Abbey.  And  then, 
**  Fetch  his  daughter.”  On  both  ef  which  errands  quick 
messengers  depart. 

The  doctor-seeking  messenger  meets  the  doctor  half» 
way,  coining  under  convoy  of  police.  Doctor  examines 
the  dank  carcass,  and  pronounces,  not  hopefully,  that  it 
is  worth  while  trying  to  reanimate  the  same.  All  the 
best  means  are  at  once  in  action,  and  everybody  present 
lends  a hand,  and  a heart  and  soul.  No  one  has  the  least 
regard  for  the  man  ; with  them  all  he  has  been  an  object 
of  avoidance,  suspicion,  and  aversion  ; but  the  spark  of 
life  within  him  is  curiously  separable  from  himself  now, 
and  they  have  a deep  interest  in  it,  probably  because  it 
is  life,  and  they  are  living  and  must  die. 

Ill  answer  to  the  doctor’s  inquiry  how  did  it  happen, 
and  was  any  one  to  blame,  Tom  Tootle  gives  in  his  vei’^ 


38 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND, 


diet,  unavoidable  accident  and  no  one  to  blame  but  the 
sufferer.  “ He  v/as  slinking  about  in  liis  boat/^  says 
Tom,  wliicli  slinking  Wfere,  not  to  speak  ill  of  the  dead, 
the  manner  of  the  man,  when  he  came  right  athwart  the 
steamer’s  bows  and  she  cut  1dm  in  two.”  Mr.  Tootle  is 
so  far  figurative,  touching  the  dismemberment,  as  that  he 
means  the  boat,  and  not  the  man.  For  the  man  lies 
whole  before  them. 

Captain  Joey,  the  bottle-nosed  regular  customer  in  the 
glazed  hat,  is  a pupil  of  the  much-respected  old  school, 
and  (having  insinuated  himself  into  the  chamber,  in  the 
execution  of  the  important  service  of  carrying  the  drown- 
ed man’s  neckerchief)  favors  the  doctor  with  a sagacious 
old-scholastic  suggestion  that  the  body  should  be  liungup 
by  the  heels,  ‘‘sim’lar,”  says  Captain  Joey,  “to  mutlon 
in  a butcher’s  sliop,”  and  should  then,  as  a particularly 
choice  manoeuvre  for  promoting  easy  respiration,  be 
rolled  upon  casks.  These  scraps  of  the  wisdom  of  the 
captain’s  ancestors  are  received  with  such  speechless  in- 
dignation by  Miss  Abbey,  that  she  instantly  seizes  the 
captain  by  the  collar,  and  without  a single  vrord  ejects 
him,  not  presuming  to  remonstrate,  from  the  scene. 

Tliere  then  remain,  to  assist  the  doctor  and  Tom,  only 
those  three  other  regular  customers.  Bob  Glamour,  Wil- 
liam Williams,  and  Jonathan  (family  name  of  the  latter, 
if  any,  nnknown  to  mankind),  who  are  quite  enough. 
Miss  Abbey  having  looked  in  to  make  sure  that  nothing 
is  wanted,  descends  to  the  bar,  and  there  awaits  the  re- 
sult, with  the  gentle  Jew  and  Miss  Jenny  Wren. 

If  you  are  not  gone  fur  good,  Mr.  Riderhood,  it  would 
be  something  to  know  where  you  are  hiding  at  present. 
This  flabby  lump  of  mortality  that  we  work  so  hard  at 


OVR  MUTUAL  FKIEKD. 


39 


with  such  patient  perseverance,  yields  no  sign  of  you.  If 
you  are  gone  for  good,  Kogue,  it  is  very  soienm,  and  if 
you  are  coming  back,  it  is  hardly  less  so.  Nay,  in  the 
suspense  and  mystery  of  the  latter  question,  involving 
that  of  where  you  may  be  now,  there  is  a solemnity  even 
added  to  that  of  death,  making  us  who  are  in  attendance 
alike  afraid  to  look  on  you  and  to  look  off  yon,  and 
making  those  below  start  at  the  least  sound  of  a creak- 
ing plank  ill  the  floor. 

Stay  ! Did  that  eyelid  tremble  ? So  the  doctor, 
breathing  low,  and  closely  watching,  asks  himself. 

No, 

Did  tha.t  nostril  twitch  ? 

No. 

This  artificial  respiration  ceasing,  do  I feel  any  faint 
flutter  under  my  hand  upon  the  chest  ? 

No. 

Over  and  over  again  No.  No.  But  try  over  and  over 
again,  nevertheless. 

See  I A token  of  life  ! An  indubitable  token  of  life  ! 
Tlie  spark  may  smoulder  and  go  out,  oi*  it  may  glow  and 
expand,  but  see  ! The  four  rough  fellows,  seeing,  shed 
tears.  Neither  Riderhood  in  this  world,  nor  Riderhood 
in  4he  other,  could  draw  tears  from  them  ; but  a striving 
human  soul  between  the  two  can  do  it  easily. 

He  is  struggling  to  come  back.  Now,  he  is  almost 
here,  now  lie  is  far  away  again.  Now  he  is  struggling 
liarder  to  get  back.  And  yet — like  us  all,  when  we 
swoon — like  us  all,  every  day  of  our  lives  when  we  wake — 
he  is  instinctively  unwilling  to  be  restored  to  the  con- 
sciousness of  this  existence,  and  would  be  left  dormant,  if 
he  could. 


40 


OUK  MUTUAL  FEIKND. 


Bob  Gliddery  returns  with  Pleasant  Iliderhood,  who 
was  out  when  sought  for,  and  hard  to  find.  She  lias  a 
shawl  over  her  head,  and  her  first  action,  when  she  takes 
it  olf  weeping,  and  courtesies  to  Miss  Abbey,  is  to  wind 
her  hair  up. 

Thank  you.  Miss  Abbey,  for  having  father  liere.” 

I am  bound  to  say,  girl,  I didiiT  know  wlio  it  was,^’ 
returns  Miss  Abbey;  “but  I hope  it  would  have  been 
pretty  much  the  same  if  I had  known.” 

Poor  Pleasant,  fortified  with  a sip  of  brandy,  is  ushered 
into  the  first-floor  chamber.  ‘ She  could  not  express  much 
sentiment  about  her  father  if  she  were  called  upon  to  pro- 
nounce his  funeral  oration,  but  she  has  a greater  tender- 
ness for  him  than  he  ever  had  for  her,  and  crying  bitterly 
when  she  sees  him  stretched  unconscious,  asks  the  doctor, 
with  clasped  hands  : “ Is  there  no  hope,  Sir  ? 0 poor 
father  ! Is  poor  father  dead  ?” 

To  which  the  doctor,  on  one  knee  beside  the  body, 
busy  and  watchful,  only  rejoins  without  looking  round  : 
“ Isow,  my  girl,  unless  you  have  the  self-command  to  be 
perfectly  quiet,  I can  not  allow  you  to  remain  in  the 
room.” 

Pleasant,  consequently,  wdpes  her  eyes  with  her  back- 
hair,  which  is  in  fresh  need  of  being  wound  up,  and  hav- 
ing got  it  out  of  the  Avay,  watches  with  terrified  interest 
all  that  goes  on.  Her  natural  woman's  aptitude  soon 
renders  her  able  to  give  a little  help.  Anticipating  the 
doctor's  want  of  this  or  that,  she  quietly  has  it  ready  for 
him,  and  so  by  degrees  is  intrusted  with  the  charge  of 
supporting  her  father's  head  upon  her  arm. 

It  is  something  so  new  to  Pleasant  to  see  her  father  an 
object  of  sympathy  and  interest,  to  find  any  one  very  wil- 


OUB  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


4:1 


ling  to  tolerate  his  society  in  this  world,  not  to  say  press* 
ingly  and  soothingly  entreating  him  to  belong  to  it,  that, 
it  gives  her  a sensation  she  never  experienced  before. 
Some  hazy  idea  that  if  affairs  could  remain  thus  for  a 
long  time  it  would  be  a respectable  change,  floats  in  her 
mind.  Also  some  vage  idea  that  the  old  evil  is  drowned 
out  of  him  ; and  that  if  he  should  happily  come  back  to 
resume  his  occupation  of  the  empty  form  that  lies  upon 
the  bed,  his  spirit  will  be  altered.  In  which  state  of 
mind  she  kisses  the  stony  lips,  and  quite  believes  that  the 
impassive  liand  she  chafes  will  revive  a tender  hand,  if  it 
revive  ever. 

Sweet  delusion  for  Pleasant  Kiderhood.  But  they 
minister  to  him  with  such  extraordinary  interest,  their 
anxiety  is  so  keen,  their  vigilance  is  so  great,  their  ex- 
cited joy  grows  so  intense  as  the  signs  of  life  strengthen, 
that  how’^  can  she  resist  it,  poor  thing  ! And  now  he 
begins  to  breathe  naturally,  and  he  stirs,  and  the  doctor 
declares  him  to  have  come  back  from  that  inexplicable 
journey  where  he  stopped  on  the  dark  road,  and  to  be 
here. 

Tom  Tootle,  who  is  nearest  to  the  doctor  when  he  says 
this,  grasps  the  doctor  fervently  by  the  hand.  Bob  Gla- 
mour, William  Williams,  and  Jonathan  of  the  no  sur- 
name, all  shake  hands  wdtli  one  another  round,  and  with 
the  doctor  too.  Bob  Glamour  blow^s  bis  nose,  and  Jona- 
than of  the  no  surname  is  moved  to  do  likewise,  but  lack- 
ing a pocket-handkerchief,  abandons  that  outlet  for  his 
emotion.  Pleasant  sheds  tears  deserving  her  own  name, 
and  her  sweet  delusion  is  at  its  height. 

There  is  intelligence  in  his  eyes.  He  wants  to  ask  a 
question.  He  w^onders  where  he  is.  Tell  him. 


4:3 


OUK  MUTUAL  FRI2IND. 


Fatlier,  you  were  run  down  on  the  river,  and  are  at 
Miss  Abbey  PottersoiAs.^^ 

He  stares  at  his  daughter,  stares  all  around  him,  closes 
his  eyes,  and  lies  slumbering’  on  her  arm. 

The  short-lived  delusion  begins  to  fade.  The  low,  bad, 
nnimpressible  face  is  coming  up  from  the  depths  of  the 
river,  or  what  other  depths,  to  the  surface  again.  As  he 
grows  warm,  the  doctor  and  the  four  men  cool.  As  his 
lineaments  soften  with  life,  their  faces  and  their  hearts 
harden  to  him. 

He  will  do  now,’^  says  the  doctor,  washing  his  hands, 
and  looking  at  the  patient  with  growing  disfavor. 

Many  a better  man/^  moralizes  Tom  Tootle  with  a 
gloomy  shake  of  the  head,  aiiiT  had  his  luck.^^ 

It’s  to  be  hoped  he’ll  make  a better  use  of  his  life,’^ 
says  Bob  G lamour,  than  I expect  he  will.” 

Or  than  he  done  afore,”  adds  William  Williams. 

But  no,  not  he  !”  says  Jonathan  of  the  no  surname, 
clenching  the  quartette. 

Tiiey  speak  in  a low  tone  because  of  his  daughter,  but 
she  sees  that  they  have  all  drawn  oif,  and  that  they  stand 
in  a group  at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  shunning  him. 
It  would  be  too  much  to  suspect  them  of  being  sorry  that 
he  didn’t  die  when  he  had  done  so  much  toward  it,  but 
they  clearly  wish  that*  they  had  had  a better  subject  to 
bestow  their  pains  on.  Intelligence  is  conveyed  to  Miss 
Abbey  in  the  bar,  who  reappears  on  the  scene,  and  con- 
templates from  a distance,  holding  whispered  discourse 
with  the  doctor.  The  spark  of  life  was  deeply  intoi’est- 
ing  while  it  was  in  abeyance,  but  now  that  it  has  got 
established  in  Mr.  Riderhood,  there  appears  to  be  a 
general  desire  that  circumstances  had  admitted  of  its 


OUB  MUTUAL  FBIEHD. 


43 


being  developed  in  any  body  else  rather  than  that  gentle- 
man. 

''  However/^  says  Miss  Abbey,  cheering  them  up,  ^‘you 
have  done  your  duty  like  good  and  true  men,  and  you 
had  better  comedown  and  take  something  at  the  expense 
of  the  Porters.^' 

This  they  all  do,  leaving  the  daughter  watching  the 
father.  To  whom,  in  their  absence,  Bob  Gliddery  pre- 
sents himself. 

“His  gills  looks  mm;  doiiT  they?^^  says  Bob,  after 
inspecting  the  patient. 

Pleasant  faintly  nods. 

His  gills  dl  look  rummer  when  he  wakes  ; won’t 
they  says  Bob. 

Pleasant  hopes  not.  Why  ? 

When  he  iinds  himself  here,  you  know,”  Bob  ex- 
plains. Cause  Miss  Abbey  forbid  him  the  house  and 
ordered  him  out  of  it.  But  what  you  may  call  the 
Fates  ordered  him  into  it  again.  Which  is  rumness  ; 
ain’t  it 

He  wouldn’t  have  come  here  of  his  own  accord,”  returns 
poor  Pleasant,  with  an  effort  at  a little  pride. 

**  No,”  retorts  Bob.  Nor  he  wouldn’t  have  been  let 
in,  if  he  had.” 

The  short  delusion  is  quite  dispelled'  now.  As  plainly 
as  she  sees  on  her  arm  the  old  father,  unimproved, 
Pleasant  sees  that  every  body  there  will  cut  him  when  he 
recovers  consciousness.  I’ll  take  him  away  ever  so 
soon  as  I can,”  thinks  Pleasant  with  a sigh  ; “ he’s  best 
at  home.” 

Presently  they  all  return,  and  wait  for  him  to  become 
conscious  that  they  will  all  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  him. 


44 


Omi  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


Some  clothes  are  got  together  for  him  to  wear,  his  own 
being  saturated  with  water,  and  his  present  dress  being 
composed  of  blankets.  ' 

Becoming  more  and  more  uncomfortable,  as  though  the 
prevalent  dislike  were  finding  him  out  somewhere  in  his 
sleep  and  expressing  itself  to  him,  the  patient  at  last 
opens  his  eyes  wide,  and  is  assisted  by  his  daughter  to  sit 
up  ill  bed. 

Well,  Riderhood,^’  says  the  doctor,  how  do  you 
feel 

He  replies  gruffly,  “ Nothing  to'  boast  on.’^  Having, 
in  fact,  returned  to  life  in  an  uncommonly  sulky  state. 

I don’t  mean  to  preach  ; but  I hope,”  says  the  doc- 
tor, gravely  shaking  his  head,  “ that  this  escape  may  liave 
a good  effect  upon  you,  Riderhood.” 

The  patient’s  discontented  growl  of  a reply  is  not  intel- 
ligible ; liis  daughter,  however,  could  interpret,  if  she 
would,  that  what  he  says  is,  he  ‘‘don’t  want  no  Poll- 
Parroting.” 

Mr.  Riderhood  next  demands  his  shirt,  and  draws  it  on 
over  Ills  head  (with  his  daughter’s  help)  exactly  as  if  he 
bad  just  had  a Fight. 

“ Warn’t  it  a steamer  ?”  he  pauses  to  ask  her. 

“ Yes,  father.” 

I’il  have  the  law  on  her,  bust  her  ! and  make  her  pay 
for  it.” 

He  tlien  buttons  his  linen  very  moodily,  twice  or  thrice 
stopj)ing  to  examine  his  arms  and  liands,  as  if  to  see  what 
punishment  he  has  received  in  tlie  Fight.  He  then  dog- 
gedly demands  his  other  garments,  and  slowly  gets  them 
on,  with  an  appearance  of  great  malevolence  toward  his 
late  opponent  and  all  the  spectators.  He  has  an  im- 


OUR  MUITJAL  FEIENU. 


iS 

pression  that  his  nose  is  bleeding,  and  several  times  draws 
the  back  of  his  hand  cacross  it,  and  looks  for  the  result,  in 
a pugilistic  manner,  greatly  strengthening  that  incongru- 
ous resemblance. 

Where’s  my  fur  cap  ?”  he  asks  in  a surly  voice,  when 
he  has  shuffled  his  clothes  on. 

In  the  river,”  somebody  rejoins. 

And  warn’t  there  no  honest  man  to  pick  it  up  ? O’ 
course  there  was  though,  and  to  cut  off  with  it  arter- 
wards.  You  are  a rare  lot,  all  on  you  I” 

Thus,  Mr.  Riderhood  : taking  from  the  hands  of  his 
daughter,  with  special  ill-will,  a lent  cap,  and  grumbling 
as  he  pulls  it  down  over  his  ears.  Then,  getting  on  his 
unsteady  legs,  leaning  heavily  upon  her,  and  growling. 
Hold  still,  can’t  you  ? What ! You  must  be  a s:ag- 
gering  next,  must  you  he  takes  his  departure  out  of  the 
ring  in  which  he  has  had  that  little  turn-up  with  Death.^^ 


46 


OUU  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


CHAPTER  IT. 

A HAPPY  RETURN  OF  THE  DAY. 

Mr,  and  Mrs.  Wilfer  liad  seen  a full  quarter  of  a hun- 
dred more  anniversaries  of  their  wedding-day  than  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Lammle  had  seen  of  theirs,  but  they  still  cele- 
brated the  occasion  in  the  bosom  of  their  family.  I^ofe 
tliat  llicse  celebrations  ever  resulted  in  any  thing  par- 
ticularly agreeable,  or  tliat  tlie  family  was  ever  disap- 
pointed by  that  circumstance  on  account  of  having  looked 
forward  to  the  return  of  the  auspicious  day  with  sanguine 
anticipations  of  enjoyment.  It  was  kept  morally,  rather 
as  a Past  than  a Peast,  enabling  Mrs.  Wilfer  to  hold  a 
sombre  darkling  state,  which  exhibited  that  impressive 
woman  in  her  choicest  colors. 

The  noble  lady’s  condition  on  these  delightful  occasions 
was  one  compounded  of  heroic  endurance  and  lieroic  for- 
giveness. Lurid  indications  of  the  better  marriages  she 
might  have  made,  shone  athwart  tlie  awful  gloom  of  her 
composure,  and  fitfully  revealed  the  cherub  as  a little 
monster  unaccountably  favored  by»  Heaven,  \A\o  had  pos- 
sessed himself  of  a blessing  for  which  many  of  his  superiors 
had  sued  and  contended  in  vain.  So  firmly  had  this  his 
position  toward  his  treasure  become  established,  that 
when  the  anniversary  arrived,  it  always  found  him  in  au 
apologetic  state.  It  is  not  impossible  that  his  modest 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


47 


penitence  rany  liave  even  gone  the  length  of  sometimes 
severely  reproving  him  for  tliat  lie  ever  took  the  liberty 
of  making  so  exalted  a character  bis  wife. 

As  for  tlie  children  of  the  union,  their  experience  of 
these  festivals  had  been  sufficiently  uncomfortable  to  lead 
tliem  annually  to  wish,  when  out  of  their  teiiderest  years, 
either  that  Ma  had  married  somebody  else  instead  of 
inuch-teascd  Pa,  or  that  Pa  had  married  somebody  else 
instead  of  Ma.  Y7hen  there  came  to  be  but  two  sisters 
left  at  liome,  tlie  daring  mind  of  Bella  on  the  next  of 
these  occasions  scaled  the  height  of  wondering  with  droll 
vexation  what  on  earth  Pa  ever  could  see  in  Ma,  to  in- 
duce him  to  make  such  a little  fool  of  himself  as  to  ask 
her  to  have 

The  revolving  year  now  bringing  the  day  round  in  its 
orderly  sequence,  Bella  arrived  in  tlie  Boffin  chariot  to 
assist  at  the  celebration.  It  was  the  family  custom  when 
the  day  recurred,  to  sacrifice  a pair  of  fowls  on  the  altar 
of  Hymen  ; and  Bella  had  sent  a note  beforehand  to  inti- 
mate that  she  would  bring  the  votive  offering  with  her. 
So  Bella  and  the  fowls,  by  the  united  energies  of  two 
horses,  two  men,  four  Avheels,  and  a plum-pudding  car- 
riage clog  with  as  uncomfortable  a collar  on  as  if  he  had 
been  George  tlie  Fourth,  were  deposited  at  the  door  of 
the  j)areuLal  dwelling.  They  were  there  received  by  Mrs. 
Wilier  ill  person,  whose  dignity  on  this,  as  on  most  special 
occiisions,  was  heightened  by  a mysterious  toothache. 

“ I shall  not  require  the  carriage  at  night, said  Bella. 
“ I siiall  walk  back.’^ 

The  male  domestic  of  Mrs.  Boffin  touched  his  hat, 
and  in  the  act  of  departure  had  an  awful  glare  besto'ved 
upon  him  by  Mrs.  Wilfer,  intended  to  carry  deep  into 


48 


OVR  MCTUAL  FRIEND. 


his  audacious  soul  the  assurance  that,  whatever  his  private 
suspicions  might  be,  male  domestics  in  livery  were  no 
rarity  there. 

Well,  dear  Ma,”  said  Bella,  and  how  do  you  do 

1 am  as  well,  Bella,”  rejjlied  Mrs.  Wilfer,  as  can  be 
expected.” 

Dear  me,  Ma,”  said  Bella  ; you  talk  as  if  one  was 
just  born  !”  * 

That’s  exactly  what  Ma  has  been  doing,”  interposed 
Lavvy,  over  the  maternal  shoulder,  ever  since  we  got 
up  this  morning.  It’s  all  very  well  to  laugh,  Bella, 
bat  any  thing  more  exasperating  it  is  impossible  to  con- 
ceive.” 

Mrs.  Wilfer,  Avith  a look  too  full  of  majesty  to  be  ac- 
companied by  any  words,  attended  both  her  daughters  to 
the  kitchen,  where  the  sacrifice  was  to  be  prepared. 

Mr.  Eokesmith,”  said  she,  resignedly,  has  been  so 
polite  as  to  place  his  sitting-room  at  our  disposal  to-day. 
You  will  therefore,  Bella,  be  entertained  in  the  humble 
abode  of  your  parents,  so  far  in  accordance  with  your 
present  style  of  living,  that  there  will  be  a drawing-room 
for  your  reception  as  well  as  a dining-room.  Your  papa 
invited  Mr.  Eokesmith  to  partake  of  our  lowly  fair.  In 
excusing  liimself  on  account  of  a particular  engagement 
he  offered  the  use  of  his  apartment.” 

Bella  happened  to  know  that  be  had  no  engagement 
out  of  his  own  room  at  Mr.  Boffin’s,  but  she  approved  of 
his  staying  away.  We  should  only  have  put  one  ano- 
ther out  of  countenance,”  she  thought,  **  and  we  do  that 
quite  ofeen  enough  as  it  is.” 

Yet  she  had  sufficient  curiosity  about  his  room  to  run 
up  to  it  with  the  least  possible  delay,  and  make  a close 


OUR  MUTU.1L  FRIEND. 


49 


inspection  of  its  contents.  It  v/as  tastefully  thongli  eco- 
nomically faniished,  and  very  neatly  arrang’cd.  There 
were  shelves  and  stands  of  books,  English,  French,  and 
Italian  ; and  in  a port-folio  on  the  writing-table  there 
were  sheets  upon  sheets  of  memoranda  and  calculations  in 
figures,  evidently  referring  to  the  BofiQn  property.  On 
that  table  also,  carefully  backed  with  canvas,  varnished, 
mounted,  and  rolled  like  a map,  was  the  placard  descrip- 
tive of  the  murdered  man  who  had  come  from  afar  to  be 
her  husband.  She  shrank  from  this  ghostly  surprise,  and 
felt  quite  frightened  as  she  roiled  and  tied  it  up  again. 
Peeping  about  here  and  there  she  came  upon  a print,  a 
graceful  head  of  a pretty  woman,  elegantly  framed,  hang- 
ing in  the  corner  by  the  easy-chair.  Oh,  indeed,  Sir 
said  Bella,  after  stopping  to  ruminate  before  it.  Oh, 
indeed.  Sir  ! I fancy  I can  guess  whom  you  think  iha£s 
like.  But  Idl  tell  you  what  it^s  much  more  like — your 
impudence  !’^  Having  said  which  she  decamped  ; not 
solely  because  she  was  offended,  but  because  there  was 
nothing  else  to  look  at. 

'^Now,  Ma,’’  said  Bella,  reappearing  in  the  kitchen 
with  some  remains  of  a blush,  “ you  and  Lavvy  think 
magnificent  me  fit  for  nothing,  but  I intend  to  prove  the 
contrary.  I mean  to  be  ^ook  to  day.” 

‘‘Hold  !”  rejoined  licr  majestic  mother.  “I  can  not 
permit  it.  Cook,  in  that  dress  !” 

“ As  for  my  dress,  Ma,”  returned  Bella,  merrily  search- 
ing ill  a dresser-draw,  I mean  to  apron  it  and  towel  it 
all  over  the  front  ; and  as  to  permission,  I mean  to  do 
without.” 

“ You  cook  ?”  said  Mrs.  Wilfer.  “ You,  who  never 
cooked  when  you  were  at  home 


50 


OUli  MUTUAL  FPvIEND. 


“Ye?,  Ma/’  returned  Bella;  “that  is  precisely  the 
state  of  the  case.^^ 

She  girded  lierself  with  a white  apron,  and  busily  with 
knots  and  pins  contrived  a bib  to  it,  coming  close  and 
tight  under  her  chin,  as  if  it  had  caught  her  round  the 
neck  to  kiss  her.  Over  this  bib  her  dimples  looked  de- 
lightful, and  under  it  her  pretty  figure  not  less  so . “ 'Now, 
Ma,”  said  Bella,  pushing  back  her  hair  from  her  temples 
with  both  hands,  “ what’s  first 

“ First  returned  Mrs.  Wilfer,  solemnly,  “ if  you  per- 
sist in  what  I can  not  but  regard  as  conduct  utterly  in- 
compatible with  the  equipage  in  which  you  arrived — ” 
(“Which  I do,  Ma.”) 

“ First,  then,  you  put  the  fowls  down  to  the  fire.” 

“ To — be — sure  !”  cried  Bella  ; “ and  flour  them,  and 
twirl  them  round,  and  there  they  go  !”  sending  them 
spinning  at  a great  rate.  “ What’s  next,  Ma 

“ Next,”  said  Mrs.  Wilfer  with  a wave  of  her  gloves, 
expressive  of  abdication  under  protest  from  the  culinary 
throne,  “ I would  recommend  examination  of  the  bacon 
in  the  sauce-pan  on  the  fire,  and  also  of  the  potatoes  by 
the  application  of  a fork.  Preparation  of  the  greens  will 
further  become  necessary  if  you  persist  in  this  unseemly 
demeanor.” 

“ As  of  course  I do,  Ma.” 

Persisting,  Bella  gave  her  attention  to  one  thing  and 
forgot  the  other,  and  gave  her  attention  to  the  other  and 
forgot  tlie  third,  and  remembering  the  third  was  distract- 
ed by  the  fourth,  and  made  amends  whenever  she  went 
wrong  by  giving  the  unfortunate  fowls  an  extra  spin, 
which  made  their  chance  of  ever  getting  cooked  exceed- 
ingly doubtful.  But  it  was  pleasant  cookery  too,  Meau- 


OtJB  MtrrUAL  FRIEKD. 


51 


time  Miss  Lavinia,  oscillating  between  the  kitchen  and 
tl:e  opposite  ioom,  ] repared  tlie  dinng-table  in  the  latter 
chamber*  This  office  she  (always  doing  her  household 
S])iriting  with  unwillingness)  performed  in  a startling 
series  of  whisks  and  bumps  ; laying  the  table-cloth  as  if 
she  were  rising  the  windj  putting  down  the  glasses  and 
salt-cellars  as  if  she  were  knocking  at  the  door,  and 
clashing  the  knives  and  forks  in  a skirmishing  manner  sug-* 
gestive  of  hand-to-hand  conflict* 

Look  at  Ma/’  whispered  Lavinia  to  Bella  when  this 
was  done,  and  they  stood  over  the  roasting  fowls.  '*If 
one  was  the-  most  dutiful  cliild  in  existence  (of  course  on 
the  whole  one  hopes  one  isj,  isnT  she  enough  to  make 
one  want  to  poke  her  with  something  wooden,  sitting 
there  bolt  upright  in  a corner 

Only  suppose,'^  returned  Bella,  that  poor  Pa  was 
to  sit  bolt  upright  in  another  corner.” 

My  denr,  he  couldn’t  do  it,”  said  Lavvy.  Pa  would 
loll  directly.  But  indeed  I do  not  believe  there  ever  was 
any  iiuman  creature  who  could  keep  so  bolt  upright  as 
Ma,  or  put  such  an  amount  of  aggravation  into  one  back  I 
What’s  the  matter,  Ma  ? Ain’t  you  well,  j\la  ?” 

^'Doubtless  I am  very  well,”  returned  Mrs.  Wilfer, 
turning  her  upon  her  youngest  born  with  scornful 
fortitude.  What  should  be  the  matter  with  Me  ?” 

You  don’t  seem  very  brisk,  Ma,”  retorted  Lavvy  the 
bold. 

Brisk  ?”  repeated  her  parent,  Brisk  ? Whence 
the  low  expression,  Lavinia  ? If  I am  uncomplaining,  if 
I am  silently  contented  with  my  lot,  let  that  suffice  for 
my  family.” 

‘‘  Well,  Ma,”  returned  Lavvy,  since  you  will  force  it 


52 


OUE  MtJTtrAL  FEIEND. 


cut  of  me,  I must  respectfully  take  leave  to  say  tlint  your 
family  are  no  doubt  under  tlie  greatest  obligations  to  you 
for  liaving*  an  annual  tootliache  on  yorn*  wedding-day,  and 
that  it's  very  disinterested  in  you,  and  an  immense  bless* 
iiig  to  them.  Still,  on  the  whole,  it  is  possible  to  be  too 
boastful  even  of  that  boon.’^ 

You  incarnation  of  sauciness,”  said  Mrs.  Wilfcr,  do 
you  speak  like  that  to  me  ? On  this  day,  of  all  days  in 
the  year  ? Fray  do  you  know  what  would  have  be- 
come of  you  if  I had  not  bestowed  my  hand  upon  R. 
W.,  your  father,  on  this  day 

“No,  Ma,”  replied  Lavvy,  “I  really  do  not;  and, 
with  the  greatest  respect  for  your  abilities  and  information, 
I very  much  doubt  if  you  do  cither.” 

Whether  or  no  the  sharp  vigor  of  tliis  sally  on  a weak 
point  of  Mrs.  Wilfer’s  intrcnchments  might  have  routed 
that  heroine  for  the  time,  is  rendered  uncertain  by  the 
arrival  of  a flag  of  truce  in  the  person  of  Mr.  George 
Sampson  : bidden  to  the  feast  as  a friend  of  the  family, 
whose  affections  were  now  understood  to  be  in  course  of 
transferrcnce  from  Bella  to  Lavinia,  and  whom  Lavinia 
kept — possibly  in  remembrance  of  his  bad  taste  in  liavisg 
overlooked  her  in  the  first  instance — under  a course  of 
stinging  discipline. 

“ I congratulate  you,  Mrs.  Wilfer,”  said  Mr.  George 
Sampson,  who  had  meditated  this  neat  address  Avhile 
coming  along,  “on  the  day.”  Mrs.  Wilfer  thanked  him 
with  a magnanimous  sigii,  and  again  became  an  unresist- 
ing  prey  to  that  inscrutable  toothache. 

“ 1 am  surjuised,”  said  Mr.  Sampson,  feebly,  “ that 
Miss  Bella  condescends  to  cook.” 

Here  Miss  Lavinia  descended  on  tbo  ill-starred  young 


OUB  MUTUAL  FXilEKD. 


53 


gentleman  with  a crushing  supposition  that  at  all  events 
it  was  no  business  of  liis.  This  disposed  of  Mr.  Sani[)Son 
in  a inelancliolj  retirement  of  spirit,  until  the  clierub  ar- 
rived, wljose  amazement  at  the  lovely  woman’s  occupation 
was  great. 

However,  she  persisted  in  dishing  the  dinner  as  well  as 
cooking  it,  and  then  sat  down,  bibless  and  apronless,  to 
partake  of  it  as  an  illustrious  guest  ; Mrs.  Wilfer  first 
responding  to  lier  husband’s  cheerful  “For  what  we  are 
about  to  receive — ” with  a sepulchral  Amen,  calculated 
to  cast  a damp  upon  the  stoutest  appetite. 

“But  what,”  said  Bella,  as  she  watched  the  carving  of 
the  fowls,  “ makes  them  pink  inside,  I wonder,  Pa  ! Is 
it  ?tie  breed  ?”  * 

“ No,  I don’t  think  it’s  tlie  breed,  my  dear,”  re- 
turned Pa.  “ 1 rather  think  it  is  because  they  are  not 
done.” 

“ They  ouglit  to  be,”  said  Bella. 

“ Yes,  I am  aware  tliey  ought  to  be,  my  dear,”  rejoined 
her  father,  “ but  they — ain’t,” 

So  the  gridiron  was  put  in  requisition,  and  the  good- 
tempei'ed  cherub,  who  was  as  often  uncherubically  em- 
ployed ill  his  own  family  as  if  he  had  been  in  the  employ- 
ment of  some  of  tlie  Old  Masters,  undertook  to  grill  the 
fowls.  Indeed,  except  in  respect  of  staring  about  him  (a 
branch  of  the  public  service  to  which  the  jiictorial  cherub 
is  much  addicted),  this  domestic  cherub  dischai-ged  as 
many  odd  junctions  as  his  prototype  ; wilh  the  difierence, 
say,  that  he  performed  with  a blackiiig-bnish  on  the 
family’s  boots,  instead  of  peribrming  on  eiiornious  wind 
iiistruiiients  and  double-basses,  and  tliat  he  conducted 
himself  with  cheerful  alacrity  to  much  useful  purpose,  in- 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRLIND. 


stead  of  foresliortening  himself  in  the  air  with  thoyngnest 
intentions. 

Bella  lielped  liim  with  his  supplemental  cookciy,  and 
made  him  very  happy,  but  put  him  in  mortal  terror  too 
by  asking  him,  when  they  sat  down  at  table  again,  how 
he  supposed  they  cooked  fowls  at  the  Greenwich  dinners;, 
and  whether  he  believed  tiiey  really  were  such  pleasant 
dinners  as  people  said  ? His  secret  winks  and  nods  of  re- 
monstrance, in  reply,  made  tlie  mischievous  Bella  laugh 
until  she  choked,  and  then  Lavinia  was  obliged  to  slap 
lier  on  the  back,  and  then  she  lauglied  the  more. 

But  her  mother  was  a fine  corrective  at  the  other  end 
of  the  table  ; to  whom  her  father,  in  the  innocence  of  his 
good-ffllowship,  at  interv^.ls  appealed  with  : My  (fear, 

I am  afraid  you  are  not  enjoying  yourself 

Why  so,  E.  W.  she  would  sonorously  reply. 
Because,  my  dear,  you  seem  a little  out  of  sorts.” 
Not  at  all,”  would  be  the  rejoinder,  in  exactly  the 
same  tone. 

Would  you  take  a merry-thought,  ray  dear  ?” 

Thank  you.  I will  take  whatever  you  please, 
R.  W.” 

Well,  but  my  dear,  do  you  like  it  ?” 

I like  it  as  well  as  I like  anything,  R.  W.”  The 
stately  woman  would  then,  with  a meritorious  appearance 
of  devoting  herself  to  the  general  good,  j)ursue  her  dinner 
as  if  she  were  feeding  somebody  else  on  high  public 
grounds. 

Bella  had  brought  dessert  and  two  bottles  of  wine,  thus 
shedding  unprecedented  splendor  on  the  occasion.  ]\Irs. 
Wilfer  did  the  honors  of  the  first  glass  by  proclaiming : 
‘‘  R.  W.,  I drink  to  you.” 


Olill  MUTUAL  FKIEND. 


55 


Tbnnk  yon,  my  dear.  And  I to  you.’’ 

Pa  and  Ma  !”  said  Bella. 

''  Pennit  me,*’  Mrs.  Wili'cr  interposed,  with  outstretched 
gdove.  “ No.  I think  not.  I drank  to  your  papa.  If, 
however,  you  insist  on  including  me,  I can  in  gratitude 
offer  no  objection.” 

‘‘Why,  Lor,  Ma,”  interposed  Lavvy  the  bold,  “isn^t 
it  the  day  that  made  you  and  Pa  one  and  the  same  ? I 
have  no  patience !” 

“ By  whatever  other  circumstance  the  day  may  be 
marked,  it  is  not  the  day,  Lavinia,  on  which  I will  allow 
«a  child  of  mine  to  pounce  upon  me.  I beg — nay,  com- 
mand ! — that  you  will  not  })Ouncc.  R.  W.,  it  is  appro- 
priate to  recall  that  it  is  for  you  to  command  and  for  me 
to  obey.  It  is  your  house,  and  you  are  master  at  your 
own  table.  Both  our  healths  !”  Drinking  the  toast  with 
trem  ndous  stiTiiess. 

“ I really  am  a little  afraid,  my  dear,”  hinted  the 
cherub  meekly,  “ tlmt  you  are  not  enjoying  yourself  ?” 

“ On  the  contrary,”  returned  Mrs.  Wilfbr,  “quite  so 
Why  should  I not  ?” 

“ I thought,  my  dear,  that  perhaps  your  face  might — ” * 

“ My  face  might  be  a martyrdom,  but  what  would  that 
import,  or  who  should  know  it,  if  I smiled  ?” 

And  she  did  smile  ; manifestly  freezing  the  blood  of 
Mr.  Geo.  Sampson  by  so  doing.  For  that  young  gentle- 
man, catching  lier  smiling  eye,  was  so  very  ranch  appalled 
by  its  ex[)ress'oii  as  to  cast  about,  in  his  thoughts  concern- 
ing what  he  had  done  to  bring  it  down  upon  himself. 

“The  mind  naturally  falls,”  said  Mrs.  Wilfer,  “shall  I 
say  into  a reverie,  or  shall  I say  into  a retrospect  ? on  a 
day  like  this.” 


66 


0V&  MUTUAL  FKIENI). 


Lavvj,  sitting  with  defiantly  folded  arms,  replied  (but 
not  audibly,)  ‘‘For  goodness^  sake  say  whichever  of  the 
two  you  like  best,  Ma.;  and  get  it  ovcr.’^ 

“ The  niind,'^  pursued  Mrs.  YV'ilfer,  in  an  oratorical 
manner,  “naturally  reverts  to  Papa  and  Mamma — I 
here  allude  to  my  parents — at  a period  before  the  earliest 
dawn  of  this  day.  I was  considered  tall  ; periiaps  I 
was.  Papa  and  Mamma  were  unquestionably  tall.  I 
have  rarely  seen  a finer  v/omau  than  my  mother  ; never 
than  my  father.’^ 

The  irrepressible  Larvy  remarked  aloud,  “ Whatever 
grandpapa  was,  he  wasidt  a female.’^ 

“ Your  grandpapa,^’  retorted  Mrs.  Wilfer,  witli  an 
a'wful  look,  and  in  an  awful  tone,  “ was  what  I de- 
scribe him  to  have  been,  and  would  have  struck  any 
of  his  grandchildren  to  the  earth  who  presumed  to 
question  it.  It  was  one  of  mammals  cherished  hopes 
that  I should  become  united  to  a tall  member  of  soci- 
ety. It  may  have  been  a weakness,  but  if  so,  it  was 
equally  the  Weakness,  I believe,  of  King  Frederick  of 
Prussia.’^  These  remarks  being  offered  to  Mr.  George 
• Sampson,  who  had  not  the  courage  to  come  out  for 
single  combat,  but  linked  with  his  chest  under  the 
table  and  his  eyes  cast  down,  Mrs.  Wilfer  proceeded, 
in  a voice  of  increasing  sternness  and  impressiveness, 
until  she  should  force  that  skulker  to  give  himself  up. 
“Mamma  w’ould  appear  to  have  had  an  indefinable 
foreboding  of  what  afterward  happened,  for  she  would 
frequently  urge  upon  me,  ‘Not  a little  man.  Promise 
me,  rny  child,  not  a little  man.  Ncvei*,  never,  never 
marry  a litile  man  V Papa  also  would  remark  to  me 
(he  possessed  extraordinary  humor, ^ that  a family  of 


OUK  MUTUAL  FKII^:ND, 


57 


whales  mnst  not  ally  themselves  with  sprats.’  His 
company  was  eagerly  sought,  as  may  be  supposed,  by 
the  wits  of  the  day,  and  our  house  was  their  continual 
resort.  I liave  known  as  many  as  three  copperplate 
engravers  exchanging  the  most  exquisite  sallies  and 
retorts  there  at  one  time.”  (Here  Mr.  Sampson  de- 
livered himself  captive,  and  said,  with  an  uneasy 
movement  on  his  chair,  that  three  was  a larg’o  number, 
and  it  must  iiave  been  highly  entertaining.)  Among 
the  most  prominent  members  of  that  distinguished 
circle  was  a gentleman  measuring  six  feet  four  in 
licight.  He  was  not  an  engraver.”  (Here^Mr.  Samp- 
son said,  with  no  reason  wliatevcr,  of  course  not.) 

This  gentleman  was  so  obliging  as  to  honor  me  with 
attentions  w'riich  I could  not  fail  to  understand.” 
(ilere  Mr.  Sampson  murmured  that  when  it  came  to 
that  you  could  always  tell.)  “I  immediately  an- 
nounced to  both  my  parents  that  those  attentions  were 
misplaced,  and  that  I could  not  favor  his  suit.  They 
inquired  was  he  too  tall  ? I replied  it  was  not  the 
stature,  but  the  intellect  was  too  h;fty.  At  our  bouse, 
I said,  the  tone  was  too  brilliant,  the  pressure  was  tod 
high,  to  be  maintained  by  me,  a mere  woman,  in  every- 
day domestic  life.  I well  remember  mamma’s  clasp- 
ing her  hands,  and  exclaiming,  ‘This  will  end  in  a 
little  man  !’  (Here  Mr.  Sampson  glanced  at  his  host 
and  shook  his  head  with  despondency.)  “She  after- 
v-ard  went  so  far  as  to  predict  that  it  would  end  in  a 
little  man  whoso  mind  would  be  btdow  the  average, 
but  that  was  in  what  I may  denominate  a paroxysm 
of  maternal  disappointment.  Within  a month,”  said 
Mrs.  Wilfer,  deepening  her  voice  as  if  she  were  ro- 


58 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIENL, 


lating*  a terrible  ghost  story,  a month  I first 

saw  R.  Vv^.,  my  liusband.  Within  a year  I married 
him.  It  is  natural  for  the  mind  to  recall  these  dark 
coincidences  on  the  present  day.’^ 

Mr.  Sampson  at  length  released  from  the  custody  of 
Mrs.  Wilfer’s  eye,  now  drew  a long  breath,  and  made 
the  original  and  striking  remark  that  there  was  no  ac- 
counting for  these  sort  of  presentiments.  R.  W.  scratch- 
ed his  head  and  looked  apologetically  all  round  the  tabic 
until  he  came  to  his  wife,  when,  observing  her,  as  it  were, 
shrouded  in  a more  sombre  weight  than  before,  he  once 
more  hin^d,  My  dear,  I am  really  afraid  you  are  not 
altogether  enjoying  yourself?’’  To  which  she  once  more 
replied,  “ On  tlie  contrary,  R.  W.  Quite  so.” 

The  wretched  Mr.  Sampson’s  position  at  this  agreeable 
entertainment  was  truly  pitiable.  For  not  only  was  he 
exposed  defenseless  to  the  harangues  of  Mrs.  Wilfer,  but 
he  received  the  utmost  contumely  at  the  hands  of  Lavi- 
nia  ; who,  partly  to  show  Bella  that  she  (Lavinia)  could 
do  what  slie  liked  with  him,  and  partly  to  pay  him  off  for 
still  obviously  adrniring^Bella’s  beauty,  led  iiim  the  life  of 
a dog.  Illuminated  on  the  one  hand  by  the  stately 
graces  of  Mrs.  Wilfer’s  oratory,  and  shadowed  on  the 
other  by  the  checks  and  frowns  of  the  young  lady  to 
whom  he  had  devoted  himself  in  his  destitution,  the  suf- 
ferings of  this  young  gentleman  were  distressing  to  wit- 
ness. If  his  mind  for  the  moment  reeled  under  them,  it 
may  be  urged,  in  extenuation  of  its  weakness,  that  it  was 
constitutionally  a knock-knee’d  mind,  and  never  very 
strong  upon  its  legs. 

The  rosy  hours  were  thus  beguiled  until  it  wa^  time  for 
Bella  to  have  Pa’s  escort  back.  The  dimples  duly  tied 


OUK  MUTUAL  FKIEND. 


59 


up  in  tlie  bonnet-string's,  and  the  leave-taking  done,  they 
got  out  into  the. air,  and  the  cherub  drew  a long  breath 
as  if  he  found  it  refreshing. 

Vv  ell,  dear  Pa,’’  said  Bella,  the  anniversary  may  be 
considered  over.” 

Yes,  my  dear,”  returned  the  cherub,  ^'there’s  another 
of  ’em  gone.” 

Bella  drew  his  arm  closer  through  hers  as  they  walked 
along,  and  gave  it  a number  of  consolatory  pats.  Thank 
you,  my  dear,”  he  said,  as  if  she  had  spoken  ; am  all 
right,  my  dear.  Well,  and  liow  do  you  get  on,  Bella  ?” 

I am  not  at  all  improved,  Pa.” 

Ain’t  you  really,  though  ?” 

Pa.  On  the  contrary,  I am  worse.” 

Lor  I”  said  the  cherub. 

I am  worse,  Pa.  I make  so  many  calculations  how 
much  a year  I must  have  when  I marry,  and  what  is  the 
least  I can  manage  to  do  with,  that  1 am  begiiiniiig  to 
get  wrinkles  over  my  no-se.  Did  you  notice  any  wrinkles’ 
over  my  nose  this  evening.  Pa  V’ 

Pa  laughing  at  this,  Bella  gave  him  two  or  three 
shakes. 

''  You  won’t  laugh.  Sir,  when  you  see  your  lovely  wo- 
man turning  haggard.  You  had  better  be  prepared  in 
time,  I can  tell  you.  I shall  not  be  able  to  keep  my 
greediness  for  money  out  of  my  eyes  long,  and  when  you 
see  it  there  you'll  be  sorry,  and  serve  you  right  for  not 
being  warned  in  time.  Now,  Sir,  we  entered  into  a 
bond  of  confidence.  Have  you  anything  to  impart  ?” 

I thought  it  was  you  who  was  to  impart,  my  love.” 
“ 0 ! did  you  indeed.  Sir  ? Then  why  didn’t  you  ask 
me  the  moment  we  came  out  ? The  confidences  of  lovely 


60 


CUE  ML'TUAI^  friend. 


women  are  not  to  be  slighted.  However,  I forgive  you 
this  once  ; and  look  iiere,  Fa,  that’s'’ — Bella  laid  tho 
little  forvefinger  of  lier  right  glove  on  her  lip,  and  then 
laid  it  on  her  father’s  lip — “ that’s  a kiss  for  you.  And 
now  i am  going  seriously  to  tell  you — let  me  see  liow 
many — four  secrets.  Mind  ! Serious,  grave,  weighty 
secrets.  Strictly  between  ourselves.” 

Number  one,  my  dear  ?”  said  her  father,  settling  her 
arm  comfortably  and  conlidentially. 

“Number  one,”  said  Bella,  “ will  electrify  yon,  Pa. 
Who  do  you  think  has” — she  was  confused  here  in  spite 
of  lier  merry  way  of  beginning — “ has  made  an  offer  to 
me  ?” 

Fa  looked  in  her  face,  and  looked  at  the  ground,  and 
looked  in  her  face  again,  and  declared  he  could  never 
guess. 

“ Mr.  Rokesmith.” 

“ You  don’t  tell  me  so,  my  dear  I” 

“ Mis — ter  Roke—smith,  Fa,”  said  Bella,  separating 
the  syllables  for  emphasis.  “ What  do  you  say  to  that  ?” 
Fa  answered  quietly  with  the  counter-question,  “ What 
did  you,  say  to  tliat,  my  love  ?” 

“ I said  No,”  returned  Bella,  sharply.  “ Of  course.” 

“ Yes.  Of  course,”  said  her  father,  meditating. 

“ And  I told  him  why  I thought  it  a betrayal  of  trust 
on  his  part,  and  an  affront  to  me,”  said  Bella. 

“ Yes.  To  be  sure.  I am  astonished  indeed.  I won- 
der he  committed  liimself  without  seeing  more  of  his  way 
first.  Now  I think  of  it,  I suspect  he  always  has  ad- 
mired you  though,  iny  dear.” 

“ A hackney  coachman  may  admire  me,”  remarked 
Bella,  with  a touch  of  her  mother’s  loftiness. 


CUK  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


61 


It^s  higlilj  probable,  my  love.  Number  two,  my 

dear 

Number  two,  Pa,  is  much  to  the  same  purpose,  though 
not  so  preposterous.  Mr.  Light^vood  would  propose  to 
me,  if  I woiild  let  him.^^ 

“ Then  I understand,  my  dear,  that  you  donT  intend 
to  let  him  V’ 

Bella  again  saying,  with  her  former  emphasis,  Why, 
of  course  not  T’  her  father  felt  himself  bound  to  echo, 
“Of  course  not.^^ 

“ I donT  care  for  him,”  said  Bella. 

“ That’s  enough,”  her  father  interposed. 

“ No,  Pa,  it’s  not  enough,”  rejoined  Bella,  giv^Ing  him 
another  shake  or  two.  “ Haven’t  I told  you  what 
a mercenary  little  wretch  I am  ? It  only  becomes  enough 
when  lie  lias  no  money,  and  no  clients,  and  no  expecta- 
tions, and  no  anything  but  debts.” 

“Hah  !”  said  tlie  cherub,  a little  depressed.  “Num- 
ber three,  my  dear  ?” 

“Number  three.  Pa,  is  a better  thing.  A generous 
thing,  a noble  thing,  a delightful  thing.  Mrs.  Bofiin  has 
herself  told  me,  as  a secret,  with  lier  own  kind  lips — and 
truer  lips  never  opened  or  closed  in  this  life,  I am  sure-— 
that  they  wish  to  see  me  well  married  ; and  that  when  I 
marry  with  their  consent  they  will  portion  me  most  hand- 
somely.” Here  the  grateful  girl  burst  out  crying  very 
heartily.  ^ 

“ Don’t  cry,  my  darling,”  said  her  father,  with  Ins  hand 
to  his  eyes  ; “ it’s  excusable  in  me  to  be  a little  overcome 
when  I find  that  my  dear  favorite  child  is,  after  all  dis- 
appointments, to  be  so  provided  for  and  so  raised  in  the 
world  ; but  don’t  you  cry,  don’t  you  cry.  I am  very 


62 


OUR  MUTUAL  FKIEKB. 


thankful.  1 congTatnlate  yon  with  all  my  heart,  my 
dear.’^  The  good  soft  iittle  fellow,  drying  his  eyes  here, 
Bella  put  her  arms  round  his  neck  and  tenderly  kissed 
him  on  the  high  road,  passionately  telling  him  he  was  the 
best  of  fathers  and  the  best  of  fj-iends,  and  that  on  her 
wedding-morning  she  would  go  down  on  her  knees  to  him 
and  beg  his  pardon  for  having  ever  teased  him  or  seemed 
insensible  to  the  wonli  of  such  a patient,  sympathetic, 
genial,  fresh  young  heart.  At  every  one  of  lier  adjec- 
tives she  redoubled  her  kisses,  and  finally  kissed  his  hat 
off,  and  tlien  laughed  immoderately  when  the  wind  took 
it  and  he  ran  after  it. 

When  he  had  recovered  his  hat  and  his  breath,  and 
they  were  going  on  again  once  more,  said  her  father  then  : 
Number  four,  my  dear 

^ Bella’s  countenance  fell  in  the  midst  of  her  mirth. 
‘'After  all,  perhaps  I had  better  put  off  number  four.  Pa. 
Let  me  tiw  once  more,  if  for  never  so  short  a time,  to 
liope  that  it  may  not  really  be  so.” 

The  change  in  her  strengthened  the  cherub’s  interest 
in  number  four,  and  he  said,  quietly  : "May  not  be  so, 
my  dear?  May  not  be  bow,  my  dear  ?’’ 

Bella  looked  at  him  pensively,  and  shook  her  head, 

" And  yet  I know  right  well  it  is  so.  Pa.  I know  it 
only  too  well.” 

" My  love,”  returned  her  father,  " you  make  me  quite 
uncomfortable.  Have  you  said  No  to  any  body  else,  my 
dear?’ 

" No,  Pa.” 

" Yes  to  any  body  ?”  he  suggested,  lifting  up  his  eye- 
brows. 

" No,  Pa.” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


63 


Is  there  any  body  else  who  would  take  liis  chance 
between  Yes  and  No,  if  you  would  let  liim,  niy  dear 
^'Not  that  I know  of,  Pa.’^  ' 

Tiiere  can’t  be  somebody  who  won’t  take  his  chance, 
when  you  want  him  to  ?”  said  the  cherub,  as  a last  re- 
source. 

“ Why,  of  course  not,  Pa,”  said  Bella,  giving  him  ano- 
ther shake  or  two. 

‘^No,  of  course  not,”  he  assented.  Bella,  my  dear, 
I am  afraid  I must  either  liave  no  sleep  to-night,  or  I 
must  press  for  number  four.” 

Oil,  Pa,  there  is  no  good  in  number  four  ! I am  so 
sorry  for  it,  I am  so  unwilling  to  believe  it,  I have  tried 
so  earnestly  not  to  see  it,  that  it  is  very  hard  to  tell,  even 
to  you.  But  Mr.  Boffin  is  being  spoiled  by  23rosperity, 
and  is  changing  every  day.” 

‘'My  dear  Bella,  I hope  and  trust  not.” 

“ I have  hoped  and  trusted  not  too.  Pa  ; but  every 
day  he  changes  for  the  worse,  and  for  the  worse.  Not 
to  me. — he  is  always  much  the  same  to  me — but  to  others 
about  him.  Before  my  eyes  he  grows  suspicious,  capri- 
cious, hard,  tyrannical,  unjust.  If  ever  a good  man  were 
ruined  by  good  fortune,  it  is  my  benefactor.  And  yet. 
Pa,  think  how  terrible  the  fascination  of  money  is  ! I 
sec  this,  and  hate  this,  and  dread  this,  and  don’t  know 
but  that  money  might  make  a much  worse  change  in  me. 
And  yet  I have  money  always  in  my  thoughts  and  my 
desires  ; and  the  whole  life  I place  before  myself  is  money, 
money,  money,  and  what  money  can  make  of  life  !” 


'll  .Tvi  ■ 

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OUB  MUTUAL  FKISNI). 


65 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  GOLDEN  DUSTMAN  FALLS  INTO  BAD  COifPANY. 

Were  Bella  Wilfer’s  brlglit  and  ready  little  wits  at 
fault,  or  was  tlie  Golden  Dustman  passing  through  the 
furnace  oF  proof  and  coining  out  dross  ? Ill  news  travels 
fast.  Wc  shall  know  full  soon. 

On  that  very  night  of  iier  return  from  the  Happy  Re- 
turn, something  chanced  which  Bella  closely  followed  with 
her  eyes  and  ears.  There  was  an  apartment  at  the  side 
of  the  Boffin  mansion,  known  as  Mr.  Boffin’s  room.  Far 
less  grand  than  the  rest  of  the  house,  it  was  far  more 
comfortable,  being  pervaded  by  a certain  air  of  homely 
snugness,  which  upholstering  dcwSpotism  had  banished  to 
that  spot  when  it  inexorably  set  its  face  against  Mr. 
Boffin’s  appeals  for  mercy  in  behalf  of  any  other  chamber. 
Thus,  although  a room  of  modest  situation — for  its  win- 
dows gave  on  Silas  Wegg’s  old  corner — and  of  no  pre- 
tensions to  velvet,  satin,  or  gilding,  it  had  got  itself  es- 
tablished in  a domestic  position  analogous  to  that  of  an 
easy  dressing  gown  or  pair  of  slippers  ; and  whenever  the 
family  wanted  to  enjoy  a particularly  pleasant  fireside 
evening,  they  enjoyed  it,  as  an  institution  that  must  be, 
ill  Mr.  Boffin’s  room. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin  were  reported  sitting  in  this  room 


68 


OVU  MUTUAL  FJKIEND* 


^vllcn  Bella  got  back.  Entering  it,  she  found  the  Secre- 
tary there  too  ; in  official  attendance  it  would  appear,  for 
lie  was  standing  with  some  papers  in  his  liand  by  a table 
with  shaded  candles  ou  it,  at  which  Mr.  Boffin  was  seated 
thrown  back  in  his  easy-chair. 

Yon  are  busy,  Sir,’’  said  Bella,  hesitating  at  the 
door. 

Not  at  all,  my  dear,  not  at  all.  You’ro  one  of  our- 
selves. We  never  make  company  of  you.  Come  in,  come 
in.  Here’s  the  old  lady  in  her  usual  place 

Mrs.  Boffin  adding  her  nod  and  smile  of  welcome  to 
Mr.  Boffin’s  words,  Bella  took  her  book  to  a chair  in  the 
(ireside  corner,  by  Mrs.  Boffin’s  work-table.  Mr.  Boffin’s 
station  was  on  tl:e  opposite  side. 

Now,  Bokesmith.,”  said  the  Golden  Dustman,  so 
sharply  rapping  the  table  to  bespeak  liis  attention  as 
Bella  turned  the  leaves  of  her  book  that  she  started  ; 
where  were  we  ? ’ 

You  were  saying.  Sir,”  returned  the  Secretary,  with 
an  air  of  some  reluctance  and  a glance  toward  those  others 
who  were  present,  that  you  considered  the  time  had 
come  for  fixing  my  salary.” 

Don’t  be  above  calling  it  wages,  man,”  said  Mr. 
Boffin,  testily.  “ What  the  deuce  ! I never  talked  of  my 
salary  when  I was  in  service.” 

“ My  wages,”  said  the  Secretary,  correcting  himself. 

Rokesinith,  you  are  not  proud,  I hope  ?”  observed 
Mr.  Boffin,  eyeing  him  askance. 

I hope  not,  Sir.” 

'‘Because  I never  was,  when  I was  poor,”  said  Mr. 
Boffin.  “ Poverty  and  pride  don’t  go  at  all  well  to- 
gether. Mind  that.  How  can  they  go  well  together  ? 


-OUK  MUTUAL  FEIENI>. 


67  - 

Wliy  it  stands  to  reason.  A man,  being  poor,  has  noth- 
ing to  be  proud  of.  It^s  nonsense.^^ 

Willi  a sliglit  Li|ciination  of  his  liend,  and  a look  of 
some  surprise,  the  Secretary  seemed  to  assent  by  forming 
the  syllables  of  the  word  noiisense^^  on  his  lips. 

Now,  concerning  these  same  wages/’  said  Mr.  Boffin. 

Sit  down.’^ 

The  Secretary  sat  down. 

Why  didn’t  you  sit  down  before  asked  Mr.  Boffin, 
distrustfully.  “ I hope  that  wasn’t  pride  ? But  about 
these  wages.  Now,  I’ve  gone  into  the  matter,  and  I say 
two  hundred  a year.  Wliat  do  you  think  of  it?  Do 
you  think  it’s  enough  ?” 

“ Thank  you.  It  is  a fair  proposal.” 

I don’t  say,  you  know,”  Mr.  Boffin  stipulated,  “ but 
what  it  may  be  more  than  enough.  And  I’ll  tell  you 
why,  Bokesmith.  A man  of  property,  like  me,  is  bound 
to  consider  the  market-price.  x\t  first  I didn’t  enter  into 
that  as  much  as  I might  have  done  ; but  I’ve  got  ac- 
quainted with  other  men  of  property  since,  and  I’ve  got 
acquainted  with  the  duties  of  property.  I mustn’t  go 
putting  the  market-price  up  because  money  may  happen 
not  to  be  an  object  with  me.  A sheep  is  worth  so  much 
in  the  market,  and  I ought  to  give  it  and  no  more.  A 
secretary  is  worth  so  mucli  in  the  market,  and  I ought 
to  give  it  and  no  more.  However,  I don’t  mind  stretch- 
ing a point  with  you.” 

Mr.  Boffin,  you  are  very  good,”  replied  the  Secretary, 
with  an  effort. 

Then  we  put  the  figure,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  at  two 
hundred  a year.  Then  the  figure’s  disposed  of.  Now, 
there  must  be  no  misunderstanding  regarding  what  I buy 


68 


OUK  MUTUAL  FKirmUU 


for  two  Imndred  a year.  If  I pay  for  a slieep,  I buy  it 
out  and  out.  Similarly,  if  I pay  for  a secretary,  I buy 
him  out  and  out.” 

“ In  otlier  words,  you  purchase  rny  wliole  time  ?” 

“ Certainly  I do.  Look  here,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  '"‘it 
ain’t  that  I want  to  occupy  your  whole  time  ; you  can 
lake  up  a book  for  a minute  or  two  wdieii  you’ve  nothing 
better  to  do,  though  I think  you’ll  a’most  always  find 
sometiiing  useful  to  do.  But  I want  to  keep  you  in  at- 
tendance. It’s  convenient  to  have  yjou  at  all  times  ready 
on  the  premises.  Therefore,  betwixt  your  breakfast 
and  your  supper — on  the  premises  I expect  to  find  you.’^ 

The  Secretary  bowed. 

In  by-gone  days,  wh.cn  I was  in  service  myself,”  said 
Mr.  Boffin,  “ I couldn’t  go  cutting  about  at  my  wdli  and 
pleasure,  and  you  won’t  expect  to  go  cutting  about  at 
your  will  and  })leasure.  You’ve  ratiier  got  into  a habit 
of  that,  lately  ; but  perhaps  it  was  for  want  of  a right 
spccincation  betwdxt  us.  Now,  let  there  be  a right  speci- 
fication betwixt  us,  and  let  it  be  this.  If  you  want  leave, 
ask  for  it.” 

Again  the  Secretary  bowxd.  His  manner  w\as  uneasy 
and  astonished,  and  showed  a sense  of  humiliation. 

“ I’ll  have  a bell,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  hung  from  this 
room  to  yours,  and  wlien  I want  you  i’ll  touch  it.  I don’t 
call  to  mind  that  I have  any  thing  more  to  say  at  the 
present  moment.” 

The  Secretary  rose,  gathered  up  his  papers,  and  w'itli- 
drew.  Bella’s  eyes  followed  him  to  the  door,  ligjited  on 
Mr.  Boffin  complucenily  thrown  back  in  his  casy-chair, 
and  drooped  over  her  book. 

“ 1 have  let  that  chap,  that  young  man  of  mine,”  said 


OVU  MUTUAL  FRIEKD. 


69 


Mr.  Boffin,  taking  a trot  up  and  down  the  room,  ''get 
above  liis  work.  It  won’t  do.  I must  liave  him  down  a 
peg.  A man  of  property  owes  a diity  to  other  men  of 
j)ropei‘ty,  and  must  look  sharp  afier  his  inferiors.” 

Bella  felt  that  Mrs.  Boffin  was  not  comfortable,  and 
that  the  eyes  of  tliat  good  creature  sought  to  discover 
from  her  face  what  attention  she  iiad  given  to  this  dis- 
course, and  what  impression  it  had  made  upon  her.  For 
which  reason  Bella’s  eyes  drooped  more  cngrossedly  over 
licr  book,  and  she  turned  the  page  with  an  air  of  pro- 
found absorption  in  it. 

Noddy,”  said  Mrs.  Boffin,  after  thoughtfully  pausing 
in  lier  work. 

"My  dear,”  returned  the  Golden  Dustman,  stopping 
short  in  his  trot. 

Excuse  my  putting  it  to  yon.  Noddy,  but  now  really  I 
Haven’t  you  been  a little  strict  with  Mr.  Rokesmilh  to. 
night  ? Haven’t  you  been  a little — just  a little  little 
— not  quite  Lke  your  old  self?” 

" Why,  old  woman.,  I hope  so,”  returned  Mr.  Boffin, 
cheerfully,  if  not  boastfully. 

" Hope  so,  deary  ?” 

" Our  old  selves  wouldn’t  do  here,  old  lady.  Haven’t 
you  found  that  out  yet  ? Our  old  selves  would  be  fit  for 
nothing  here  but  to  be  robbed  and  imposed  upon.  Our 
old  selves  weren’t  people  of  fortune  ; our  new  selves  are  ; 
it’s  a great  difference.” 

" Ah  !”  said  Mrs.  Boffin,  pausing  in  her  work  again, 
softly  to  draw  a long  breath  and  to  look  at  the  fire.  " A 
great  difference.” 

" And  we  must  be  up  to  the  difference,”  pursued  her 
husband  ; " we  must  bo  equal  to  the  change  ; that’s  what 


i 


N 


70 


OUR  MUTUAL  URILKU. 


1VC  must  be.  We’ve  got  to  liold  our  own  now,  against 
every  Ijody  (for  every  body's  hand  is  stretclied  out  to  be 
dipped  into  our  pockets),  and  we  liave  got  to  recollect 
that  money  makes  money,  as  well  as  makes  every  thing 
else.” 

“ Mentioning  recollecting,”  said  Mrs.  Boffin,  with  her 
work  «sbandoned,  lier  eyes  upon  the  fire,  and  her  chin 
upon  her  hand,  ^'do  you  recollect,  Noddy,  how  you  said 
to  Mr.  Rokesmith  when  he  first  came  to  see  us  at  the 
Bower,  and  you  engaged  him — how  you  said  to  him  that 
if  it  had  pleased  Heaven  to  send  John  Harmon  to  Ids  for- 
tune safe,  we  could  have  been  content  with  the  one  Mound 
which  was  our  legacy,  and  should  never  have  wanted  the 
rest  r 

Ay,  I remember,  old  lady*  But  we  hadn’t  tried 
what  it  was  to  have  the  rest  then.  Our  new  shoes 
had  come  home,  but  we  hadn’t  put  ’em  on.  We’re 
wearing  ’em  now,  we’re  wearing  ’em,  and  must  step  out 
accordingly.” 

Mrs.  Boffin  took  up  her  work  again,  and  plied  her 
needle  in  silence. 

As  to  Rokesmith,  that  young  man  of  mine,”  said  Mr. 
Boffin,  dropping  his  voice  and  glancing  toward  the  door 
with  an  apprehension  of  being  overheard  by  some  eaves- 
dropper there,  it’s  the  same  with  him  as  with  the  foot- 
men. I have  found  out  that  you  must  eitlier  scrunch 
them,  or  let  them  scrunch  you.  If  you  ain’t  imperious 
with  ’em,  they  won’t  believe  in  your  being  any  better 
than  themselves,  if  as  good,  after  the  stories  (lies  mostly) 
that  they  have  heard  of  yonr  beginnings.  There’s  nothing 
betwixt  stiffening  yourself  up,  and  tlirowing  yourself 
away ; take  my  word  for  that,  old  lady.” 


I 


OTTR  MUTUAL  FRIEHU. 


71 


Bella  TCTvtured  for  a moment  to  look  stealtliily  toward 
Iiim  under  her  eyelashes,  and  slie  saw  a dark  cloud  of  sus- 
])icion,  covetousness,  and  conceit  overshadowing  the  once 
open  face. 

“ Hows’ever,’^  said  be,  “ this  isn’t  entertaining  to  Miss 
Bella.  Is  it,  Bella 

A deceiving  Bella  she  was,  to  look  at  h.im  with  that 
pensively  abstracted  air,  as  if  her  mind  were  full  of  her 
book,  and  she  had  not  heard  a single  word  ! 

“ Hah  ! Better  employed  than  to  attend  to  it,”  said 
Mr.  Boffin.  ‘‘  That’s  right,  that’s  right.  Especially  as 
you  have  no  call  to  be  told  how  to  vaiue  yourself,  my 
dear.” 

Coloring  a little  under  tin’s  compliment,  Bella  returned, 

I hope,  Sir,  you  don’t  think  me  vain  ?” 

“ T*sot  a bit,  my  dear,”  said  Mr.  Boffin.  But  I think 
it’s  very  creditable  in  you,  at  yom*  age,  to  be  so  well  up 
with  the  pace  of  the  world,  and  to  know  what  to  go  in 
for.  You  are  right.  Go  in  for  money,  my  love. 
Money’s  tlie  article.  You'll  make  money  of  yonr  good 
looks,  and  of  the  money  Mrs.  Boffin  and  me  will  have  the 
pleasure  of  settling  upon  yon,  and  you’ll  live  and  die  rich. 
That’s  the  state  to  live  and  die  in  I”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  in 
an  unctuous  manner.  R — r — rich  !” 

There  was  an  expression  of  distress  in  Mrs.  Boffin’s 
face,  as,  after  watching  her  husband’s,  she  turned  to  their 
adopted  girl,  and  said  : Don’t  mind  him,  Bella,  my 

clear.” 

Eh  ?”  cried  Mr.  Boffin.  What  ! Not  mind  him 
I don’t  mean  that,”  said  Mrs.  Boffin,  with  a worried 
look,  but  I mean,  don’t  believe  him  to  be  any  thing  but 
good. and  generous,  Bella,  because  he  is  the  best  of  mem 


72 


OUK  MUTUAL  FjJIEND. 


I iDvist  say  that  mncli,  Noddy.  Yon  aro  always 
tlie  b'jst  of  men.’’ 

S!ic  made  tiic  declaration  as  if  lie  were  objecting  to  it ; 
which  lie  assuredly  was  not  in  any  way. 

And  as  to  you,  my  dear  I3eila,”  said  Mrs.  Boffin,  still 
t with  that  distressed  expression,  “ he  is  so  much  attaciied 
to  you,  whatever  lie  says,  that  your  own  father  lias  not  a 
truer  interest  in  you  raid  can  liardly  like  you  better  than 
lie  does.” 

'‘Says  too  !”  cried  Mr.  Boffin.  "Whatever  lie  says  ! 
'Why,  1 say  so,  openly.  Give  me  a kiss,  my  dear  child, 
in  saying  Good-tSbght,  and  let  me  confirm  what  my  old 
lady  tells  you,  I am  very  fond  of  you,  my  dear,  and  I 
am  entirely  of  your  mind,  am]  you  and  I wiil  take  care 
that  you  slnill  bo  rich.  These  good  looks  of  yours 
(which  you  have  some  right  to  be  vain  of,  my  dear, 
though  yon  arc  not,  you  know)  are  worth  money,  and  you 
shall  make  money  ^of  ’em.  The  money  you  wiil  have  will 
be  worth  money,  and  you  shall  make  money  of  that  too. 
There’s  a golden  ball  at  your  feet.  Good-night,  my 
dear.” 

Somehow,  Bella  was  not  so  well  pleased  with  tliis 
assurance  and  this  prospect  as  she  might  liave  been. 
Somehow,  wlicii  she  put  her  ams  round  Mrs.  Boffin’s 
neck  and  said  Good-Night,  she  derived  a sense  of  unwor- 
tliincss  from  the  still  anxious  face  of  that  good  woman, 
and  her  obvious  wish  to  excuse  her  husband.  " Why, 
what  need  to  excuse  liiin  ?”  thought  Bella,  sitting  down 
in  her  own  room.  "What  lie  said  ivas  very  sensible,  I 
am  sure,  and  very  true,  I am  sure.  It  is  only  ivhat  I 
often  say  to  myself.  Don’t  I like  it  tlien  ? No,  I don’t 
like  it,  audj  though  lie  is  my  liberal  benefactor,  I dh5- 


'OVR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


73 


parage  him  for  it.  Then  pray,”  said  Bella,  sternly  put- 
ting the  question  to  herself  in  the  looking-glass  as  usual, 
''what  do  you  mean  by  this,  you  inconsistent  little 
Beast 

The  looking-glass  preserving  a discreet  ministerial 
silence  when  thus  called  upon  for  explanation,  Bella  went 
to  bed  with  a weariness  upon  her  spirit  which  was  more 
than  the  weariness  of  want  of  sleep.  And  again  in  the 
morning  she  looked  for  the  cloud,  and  for  the  deepening 
of  the  cloud,  upon  the  G olden  Dustman’s  face. 

She  had  begun  by  this  time  to  be  his  frequent  com- 
panion in  his  morning  strolls  about  the  streets,  and  it  was 
at  this  time  that  he  made  her  a party  to  his  engaging  in 
a curious  pursuit.  Having  been  hard  at  work  in  one 
dull  inclosure  all  his  life,  he  had  a child’s  delight  in  look- 
ing at  shops.  It  had  been  one  of  the  first  novelties  and 
pleasures  of  his  freedom,  and  was  equally  the  delight  of 
his  wife.  For  many  years  their  only  walks  in  London 
had  been  taken  on  Sundays  when  the  shops  were  shut ; 
and  when  every  day  in  the  week  became  their  holiday, 
they  derived  an  enjoyment  from  the  variety  and  fancy  and 
beauty  of  the  display  in  the  windows,  which  seemed  in- 
capable of  exhaustion.  As  if  the  principal  streets  were 
a great  Theatre  and  the  play  were  childishly  new  to 
them,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boifin,  from  the  beginning  of  Bella’s 
intimacy  in  their  house,  had  been  constantly  in  the  front 
row,  charmed  with  all  they  saw  and  applauding  vigor- 
ously. But  now,  Mr.  Boffin’s  interest  began  to  centre  in 
book-shops  ; and  more  than  that — for  that  of  itself  * 
would  not  have  been  much — in  one  exceptional  kind' of 
book. 

''  Look  in  here,  my  dear,”  Mr.  Boffin  would  say,  check- 


74 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


ing  Beliaks  arm  at  a bookseller^s  window  ; you  can  read 
at  sight,  and  your  eyes  are  as  sharp  as  they’re  bright. 
Now,  look  well  about  you,  my  dear,  and  tell  me  if  you 
see  any  book  about  a Miser.” 

If  Bella  saw  such  a book  Mr.  Boffin  would  instantly 
dart  in  and  buy  it.  And  still,  as  if  they  had  not  found  it, 
they  would  seek  out  another  book-shop,  and  Mr.  Boffin 
would  say,  ^^Now,  look  well  all  round,  my  dear,  fora 
Life  of  a Miser,  or  any  book  of  that  sort  ; any  Lives  of 
odd  characters  who  may  have  been  Misers.” 

Bella,  thus  directed,  would  examine  the  window  with 
the  greatest  attention,  while  Mr.  Boffin  would  examine 
her  face.  The  moment  she  pointed  out  any  book  as  being 
entitled  Lives  of  eccentric  personages,  Anecdotes  of 
strange  characters.  Records  of  remarkable  individuals,  or 
any  thing  to  that  purpose,  Mr.  Boffin’s  countenance  would 
light  up,  and  he  would  instantly  dart  in  and  buy  it.  Size, 
price,  quality,  were  of  no  account.  Any  book  that 
seemed  to  promise  a chance  of  miserly  biography  Mr. 
Boffin  purchased  without  a moment’s  delay  and  carried 
home.  Happening  to  'be  informed  by  a book-seller  that 
a portion  of  the  Annual  Register  was  devoted  to  “ Char- 
acters,” Mr.  Boffin  at  once  bought  a whole  set  of  that 
ingenious  compilation,  and  began  to  carry  it  home  piece- 
meal, confiding  a volume  to  Bella,  and  bearing  three  him- 
self. The  completion  of  this  labor  occupied  them  about 
a fortnight.  When  the  task  was  done,  Mr.  Boffin,  with 
his  appetite  for  Misers  whetted  instead  of  satiated,  began 
to  look  out  again . 

It  very  soon  became  unnecessary  to  tell  Bella  what  to 
look  for,  and  an  understanding  was  established  between 
her  and  Mr.  Boffin  that  she  was  always  to  look  for  Lives 


ovn  Mutual  fbilni), 


75 


of  Misers.  Morning  after  morning  they  roamed  about 
the  tovAui  together,  pursuing  this  singular  research. 
Miserly  Literature  not  being  abundant,  the  proportion 
of  failures  to  successes  may  have  been  as  a hundred  to 
one  ; still  Mr.  Boffin,  never  wearied,  remained  as  ava- 
ricious for  misers  as  he  had  been  at  the  first  onset.  It 
was  curious  that  Bella  never  saw  the  books  about  the 
house,  nor  did  she  ever  hear  from  Mr.  Boffin  one  word 
of  reference  to  their  contents.  He  seemed  to  save  up  his 
Misers  as  they  had  saved  up  their  money.  As  they  had 
been  greedy  for  it,  and  secret  about  it,  and  had  hidden  it, 
so  he  was  greedy  for  them,  and  secret  about  them,  and 
hid  them.  But  beyond  all  doubt  it  was  to  be  noticed, 
and  was  by  Bella  very  clearly  noticed,  that,  as  he  pursued 
the  acquisition  of  those  dismal  records  with  the  ardor  of 
Don  Quixote  for  his  books  of  chivalry,  he  began  to  spend 
his  money  with  a more  sparing  hand.  And  often  when 
he  came  out  of  a shop  with  some  new  account  of  one  of 
those  wretched  lunatics,  she  would  almost  shrink  from  the 
sly  dry  chuckle  with  which  he  would  take  her  arm  again 
and  trot  away.  It  did  not  appear  that  Mrs.  Boffin  knew 
of  this  taste.  He  made  no  allusion  to  it,  except  in  the 
morning  walks  when  he  and  Bella  were  always  alone  ; 
and  Bella,  partly  under  the  impression  that  he  took  her 
into  his  confidence  by  implication,  and  partly  in  remem- 
brance of  Mrs.  Boffin’s  anxious  face  that  night,  held  the 
same  reserve. 

While  these  occurrences  were  in  progress,  Mrs.  Lammle 
made  the  discovery  that  Bella  had  a fascinating  influence 
over  her.  The  Lammles,  originally  presented  by  the 
dear  Yeneerings,  visited  the  Boffins  on  all  grand  occa- 
sions, and  Mrs.  Lammle  had  not  previously  found  this 


76 


OVR  MUTUAL  FKIEOT. 


out ; but  now  the  knowledge  came  upon  her  all  at  once. 
It  was  a most  extraordinary  thing  (she  said  to  Mrs.  Bof- 
fin) : she  Was  foolishly  susceptible  of  the  power  of  beauty, 
but  it  wasn’t  altogether  that ; she  never  had  been  able  to 
resist  a natural  grace  of  manner,  but  it  wasn’t  altogether 
that ; it  was  more  than  that,  and  there  was  no  name  for 
the  indescribable  extent  and  degree  to  which  she  was  cap- 
tivated by  this  charming  girl. 

This  charming  girl  having  the  words  repeated  to  her 
by  Mrs.  Boffin  (who  was  proud  of  her  being  admired,  and 
would  have  done  any  thing  to  give  her  pleasure)^  natu- 
rally recognized  in  Mrs.  Lammle  a woman  of  penetration 
and  taste.  Responding  to  the  sentiments,  by  being  very 
gracious  to  Mrs.  Lammle,  she  gave  that  lady  the  means 
o-r  so  improving  her  opportunity,  as  that  the  captivation 
became  reciprocal,  though  always  wearing  an  appearance 
of  greater  sobriety  on  Bella’s  part  than  on  the  enthusi- 
astic Sophronia’s.  Howbeit,  they  were  so  much  together, 
that,  for  a time,  the  Boffin  chariot  held  Mrs.  Lammle 
oftener  than  Mrs.  Boffin  : a preference  of  which  the 
latter  worthy  soul  was  not  in  the  least  jealous,  placidly 
remarking,  “ Mrs.  Lammle  is  a younger  companion  for 
her  than  I am,  and  Lor  ! she’s  more  fashionable.” 

But  between  Bella  Wilfer  and  Georgiana  Podsnap 
there  was  this  one  difference,  among  many  others,  that 
Bella  was  in  no  danger  of  being  captivated  by  Alfred. 
She  distrusted  and  disliked  him.  Indeed,  her  perception 
was  so  quick,  and  her  observation  so  sharp,  that  after  all 
she  mistrusted  his  wife  too,  though  with  her  giddy  vanity 
and  willfulness  she  squeezed  the  mistrust  away  into  a cor- 
ner of  her  mind,  and-  blocked  it  up  there. 

Mrs.  Lammle  took  the  friendliest  interest  in  Bella’s 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


77 

making  a good  match.  Mrs.  Lammle  said,  in  a sportive 
way,  she  really  must  show  her  beautiful  Bella  what  kind 
of  wealthy  creatures  she  and  Alfred  had  on  hand,  who 
would  as  one  man  fall  at  her  feet  enslaved.  Fitting 
occasion  made,  Mrs.  Lammle  accordingly  produced  the 
most  passable  of  those  feverish,  boastful,  and  indefinably 
loose  gentlemen  who  were  always  lounging  in  and  out  of 
the  City  on  questions  of  the  Bourse  and  Greek  and 
Spanish  and  India  and  Mexican  and  par  and  premium  and 
discount  and  three-quarters  and  seven-eighths.  Who  in 
their  agreeable  manner  did  homage  to  Bella  as  if  she 
were  a compound  of  fine  girl,  thorough-bred  horse,  well- 
built  drag,  and  remarkable  pipe.  But  without  the  least 
effect,  though  even  Mr.  Fledgeby^s  attractions  were  cast 
into  the  scale. 

I fear,  Bella  dear,^^  said  Mrs.  Lammle  one  day  in  the 
chariot,  that  you  will  be  very  hard  to  please.^^ 

“ I don’t  expect  to  be  pleased,  dear,^^  said  Bella,  with  a 
languid  turn  of  her  eyes. 

“ Truly,  my  love,”  returned  Sophronia,  shaking  her 
head,  and  smiling  her  best  smile,  ^^it  would  not  be  very 
easy  to  find  a man  worthy  of  your  attractions.” 

The  question  is  not  a man,  my  dear,”  said  Bella, 
coolly,  “ but  an  establishment.” 

''  My  love,”  returned  Mrs.  Lammle,  your  prudence 
amazes  me — where  did  you  study  life  so  well  ! — you  are 
right.  In  such  a case  as  yours,  the  object  is  a-  fitting 
establishment.  You  could  not  descend  to  an  inadequate 
one  from  Mr.  Boffin’s  house,  and  even  if  your  beauty  alone 
could  not  command  it,  it  is  to  be  assumed  that  Mr.  and 

Mrs.  Boffin  will ” 

Oh  ! they  have  already,”  Bella  interposed. 


78 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


'No  ! Have  they  really 

A little  vexed  by  a suspicion  that  she  had  spoken  pre- 
cipitately, and  withal  a little  defiant  of  her  own  vexation, 
Bella  determined  not  to  retreat. 

That  is  to  say,’^  she  explained,  “ they  have  told  me 
they  mean  to  portion  me  as  their  adopted  child,  if  you 
mean  that.  But  don’t  mention  it.” 

‘‘  Mention  it  I”  replied  Mrs.  Lammle,  as  if  she  were 
full  of  awakened  feeling  at  the  suggestion  of  such  an  im- 
possibility. Men-tion  it  1” 

I don’t  mind  telling  you,  Mrs.  Lammle — ” Bella 
began  again. 

My  love,  say  Sophronia,  or  I must  not  say  Bella.” 
With  a little  short,  petulant  Oh  !”  Bella  complied. 
Oh  ! — Sophronia  then — I don’t  mind  telling  you,  So- 
phronia, that  I am  convinced  I have  no  heart,  as  people 
call  it ; and  that  I think  that  sort  of  thing  is  non- 
sense.” 

Brave  girl !”  murmured  Mrs.  Lammle. 

And  so,”  pursued  Bella,  as  to  seeking  to  please 
myself,  I don’t  ; except  in  the  one  respect  I have  men- 
tioned. I am  indifferent  otherwise.” 

But  you  can’t  help  pleasing,  Bella,”  said  Mrs.  Lammle 
rallying  her  with  an  arch  look  and  her  best  smile,  you 
can’t  help  making  a proud  and  an  admiring  husband. 
You  may  not  care  to  please  yourself,  and  you  may  not 
care  to  please  him,  but  you  are  not  a free  agent  as  to 
pleasing  ; you  are  forced  to  do  that,  in  spite  of  yourself, 
my  dear  ; so  it  may  be  a question  whether  you  may  not 
as  well  please  yourself  too,  if  you  can.” 

Now,  the  very  grossness  of  this  flattery  put  Bella  upon 
proving  that  she  actually  did  please  in  spite  of  herself. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


79 


She  had  a misgiving  that  she  was  doing  wrong — though 
she  had  an  indistinct  foreshadowing  that  some  harm 
might  come  of  it  thereafter,  she  little  thought  what  con- 
sequences it  would  really  bring  about — but  she  went  on 
with  her  confidence. 

Don’t  talk  of  pleasing  in  spite  of  one’s  self,  dear,” 
said  Bella.  I have  had  enough  of  that.” 

“ Ay  ?”  cried  Mrs.  Lammle.  Am  I already  cor- 
roborated, Bella  ?” 

Never  mind,  Sophronia,  we  will  not  speak  of  it  any 
more.  Don’t  ask  me  about  it.” 

This  plainly  meaning  Do  ask  me  about  it,  Mrs.  Lammle 
did  as  she  was  requested. 

Tell  me,  Bella.  Come,  my  dear.  What  provoking 
burr  has  been  inconveniently  attracted  to  the  charming 
skirts,  and  with  difficulty  shaken  offi  ?” 

Provoking  indeed,”  said  Bella,  and  no  burr  to  boast 
of  ! But  don’t  ask  me.” 

Shall  I guess  ?”  ' 

You  would  never  guess.  What  would  you  say  to 
our  Secretary 

My  dear  1 The  hermit  Secretary,  who  creeps  up  and 
down  the  back  stairs,  and  is  never  seen  I” 

I don’t  know  about  his  creeping  up  and  down  the 
back  stairs,”  said  Bella,  rather  contemptuously,  “ further 
than  knowing  that  he  does  no  such  thing  ; and  as  to  his 
never  being  seen,  I should  be  content  never  to  have  seen 
him,  though  he  is  quite  as  visible  as  you  are.  But  I 
pleased  Aim  (for  my  sins),  and  he  had  the  presumption  to 
tell  me  so.” 

''  The  man  never  made  a declaration  to  you,  my  dear 
Bella  1” 


so 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


“ Are  you  sure  of  that,  Sophronia  V’  said  Bella.  “ I 
am  not.  In  fact,  I am  sure  of  the  contrary.” 

The  man  must  be  mad,”  said  Mrs.  Lammle,  with  a 
kind  of  resignation. 

‘‘  He  appeared  to  be  in  his  senses,”  returned  Bella, 
tossing  her  head,  and  he  had  plenty  to  say  for  himself. 
I told  him  my  o])inion  of  his  declaration  and  his  conduct, 
and  dismissed  him.  Of  course  this  has  all  been  very  in- 
convenient to  me,  and  very  disagreeable.  It  has  re- 
mained a secret,  however.  That  word  reminds  me  to 
observe,  Sophronia,  that  I have  glided  on  into  telling 
you  the  secret,  and  that  I rely  upon  you  never  to  men- 
tion it.” 

Mention  it !”  repeated  Mrs.  Lammle,  with  her  former 
feeling.  Men-tion  it  !” 

This  time  Sophronia  was  so  much  in  earnest,  that  she 
found  it  necessary  to  bend  forward  in  the  carriage  and 
give  Bella  a kiss.  A Judas  order  of  kiss  ; for  she  thought, 
while  she  yet  pressed  Bella’s  hand  after  giving  it,  ‘‘Upon 
your  own  showing,  you  vain  heartless  girl,  puffed  up  by 
tlie  doting  folly  of  a dustman,  I need  have  no  relenting 
toward  you.  If  my  husband,  who  sends  me  here,  should 
form  any  schemes  for  making  yoth  a victim,  I should  cer- 
tainly not  cross  him  again.”  In  those  very  same  moments 
Bella  was  thinking,  “ Why  am  I always  at  war  with 
myself?  Why  have  I told,  as  if  upon  compulsion,  w'hat 
I knew  all  along  I ought  to  have  withheld  ? Why 
am  I making  a friend  of  this  w^oman  beside  me,  in 
spite  of  the  whispers  against  her  that  I hear  in  my 
heart  ?” 

As  usual,  there  >vas  no  nmwQY  in  tlie  looking-glass 
when  she  got  home  and  referred  these  questions  to  it. 


OUU  MtTTtTAL  FRIEND. 


81 


Perhaps  if  she  had  consulted  some  better  oracle  the  re- 
sult might  have  been  more  satisfactory  ; but  she  did  not, 
and  all  things  consequent  marched  the  march  before 
them. 

On  one  point  connected  with  the  watch  she  kept  on 
Mr.  Boffin  she  felt  very  inquisitive,  and  that  was  the 
question  whether  the  Secretary  watched  him  too,  and 
followed  the  sure  and  steady  change  in  him,  as  she  did  ? 
Her  very  limited  intercourse  with  Mr.  Bokesmith  render- 
ed this  hard  to  find  out.  Their  communication  now  at 
no  time  extended  beyond  the  preservation  of  common- 
place appearances  before  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin  ; and  if 
Bella  and  the  Secretary  were  ever  left  alone  together  by 
any  chance  he  immediately  withdrew.  She  consulted  his 
face  when  she  could  do  so  covertly,  as  she  worked  or 
read,  and  could  make  nothing  of  it.  He  looked  subdued  ; 
but  he  had  acquired  a strong  command  of  feature,  and, 
wlienever  Mr.  Boffin  spoke  to  him  in  Bella’s  presence,  or 
whatever  revelation  of  himself  Mr.  Boffin  made,  the  Sec- 
retary’s face  changed  no  more  than  a wall.  A slightly 
knitted  brow,  that  expressed  nothing  but  an  almost  me- 
chanical attention,  and  a compression  of  the  mouth,  that 
might  have  been  a guard  against  a scornful  smile — these 
she  saw  from  morning  to  night,  from  day  to  day,  from 
week  to  week,  monotonous,  unvarying,  set,  as  in  a piece 
of  sculpture. 

The  worst  of  the  matter  was  that  it  thus  fell  out  in- 
sensibly— and  most  provokingly,  as  Bella  complained  to 
herself,  in  her  impetuous  little  manner — that  her  observa- 
tfon  of  Mr.  Boffin  involved  a continual  observation  of  Mr. 
Bokesmith.  “Won’t  that  extract  a look  from  him  ?” — 
“ Can  it  be  possible  that  makes  no  impression  on  him  ?” 


82 


OUK  MUTUAL  FEIEND. 


Such  questions  Bella  would  propose  to  herself,  often  as 
many  times  in  a clay  xis  there  were  hours  in  it.  Impossi- 
ble to  know.  Always  the  same  fixed  face. 

. Can  he  be  so  base  as  to  sell  his  very  nature  for  two 
hundi*ed  a year  Bella  would  think.  And  then,  ‘‘But 
why  not  ? It^s  a mere  question  of  price  with  others  be- 
sides him.  I suppose  I would  sell  mine  if  I could  get 
enough  for  it.^’  And  so  she  would  come  round  again  to 
the  war  with  herself. 

A kind  of  illegibility,  though  a different  kind,  stole 
over  Mr.  Boffin^s  face.  Its  old  simplicity  of  expression 
got  masked  by  a certain  craftiness  that  assimilated  even 
his  good-humor  to  itself.  His  very  smile  was  cunning,  as 
if  he  had  been  studying  smiles  among  the  portraits  of  his 
misers.  Saving  an  occasional  burst  of  impatience,  or 
coarse  assertion  of  his  mastery,  his  good-humor  remained 
to  him,  but  it  had  now  a sordid  alloy  of  distrust  ; and 
though  his  eyes  should  twinkle  and  all  his  face  should 
laugh,  he  would  sit  holding  himself  in  his  own  arms,  as 
if  he  had  an  inclination  to  hoard  himself  up,  and  must 
always  grudgingly  stand  on  the  defensive. 

What  with  taking  heed  of  these  two  faces,  and  what 
with  feeling  conscious  that  the  stealthy  occupation  must 
set  some  mark  on  her  own,  Bella  sooi^  began  to  think 
that  there  was  not  a candid  or  a natural  face  among 
them  all  but  Mrs.  Boffin^s.  None  the  less  because  it  was 
far  less  radiant  than  of  yore,  faithfully  reflecting  iu  its 
anxiety  and  regret  every  line  of  change  in  the  Golden 
Dustman^s. 

“ Rokesmith,’^  said  Mr.  Boffin,  one  evening  when  they 
were  all  in  his  room  again,  and  he  and  the  Secretary  had 
been  going  over  some  accounts,  “lam  spending  too  much 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


83 


money.  Or  leastways,  you  are  spending  too  much  for 
me.^^ 

You  are  rich,  Sir/^ 

I am  not,^^  said  Mr.  Boffin. 

The  sharpness  of  the  retort  was  next  to  telling  the 
Secretary  that  he  lied.  But  it  brought  no  change  of  ex- 
pression into  the  set  face. 

I tell  you  I am  not  rich,’’  repeated  Mr.  Boffin,  and 
I won’t  have  it.” 

You  are  not  rich.  Sir  ?”  repeated  the  Secretary,  in 
measured  words. 

'‘Well,”  returned  Mr.  Boffin,  'Mf  I am,  that’s  my 
business.  I am  not  going  to  spend  at  this  rate  to  please 
you  or  any  body.  You  wouldn’t  like  it  if  it  was  your 
money.” 

Even  in  that  impossible  case.  Sir,  I — ” 

Hold  your  tongue !”  said  Mr.  Boffin.  You  oughtn’t 
to  like  it  in  any  case.  There  ! I didn’t  mean  to  be  rude, 
but  you  put  me  out  so,  and  after  all  I’m  master.  I didn’t 
intend  to  tell  you  to  hold  your  tongue.  I beg  your  par- 
don. Don’t  hold  your  tongue.  Only,  don’t  contradict. 
Did  you  ever  come  across  the  life  of  Mr.  Elwes  ?”  refer- 
ring to  his  favorite  subject  as  last. 

The  miser  ?” 

Ah  1 people  called  him  a miser  1 People  are  always 
calling  other  people  something.  Did  you  ever  read  about 
him  ?” 

I think  so.” 

“He  never  owned  to  being  rich,  and  yet  he  might 
have  bought  me  twice  over.  Did  you  ever  hear  of 
Daniel  Dancer  V” 

“ Another  miser  ? Yes,” 


84 


OI'R  MUTUAL  FETEND. 


He  was  a good  said  Mr.  Boffin,  “ and  he  had  a 
sister  worthy  of  him.  They  never  called  themselves  rich 
neither.  If  they  had  called  themselves  rich,  most  likely 
they  wouidiiT  have  been  so.^^ 

They  lived  and  died  very  miserably.  Did  they  not, 
Sir  r 

No,  I doiiT  know  that  they  did,^^  said  Mr.  Boffin, 
curtly. 

Then  they  are  not  the  Misers  I mean.  Those  abject 
wretches — ” 

DonT  call  names,  Rokesmith/’  said  Mr.  Boffin. 

— That  exemplary  brother  and  sister — lived  and  died 
in  the  foulest  and  filthiest  degradation 

“ They  pleased  themselves,^^  said  Mr.  Boffin,  and  I 
suppose  they  could  have  done  no  more  if  they  had  spent 
their  money.  But,  however,  I ain’t  going  to  fling  mine 
away.  Keep  the  expenses  down.  The  fact  is,  you  ainT 
enough  here,  Bokesmith.  It  wants  constant  attention 
in  the  littlest  things.  Some  of  us  will  be  dying  in  a work- 
house  next.^^ 

As  the  persons  you  have  just  cited,”  quietly  remarked 
the  Secretary,  ''  thought  they  would,  if  I remember, 
Sir.” 

And  very  creditable  in  ^em,  too,”  said  Mr.  Boffin. 
“ Very  independent  in  ^em  ! But  never  mind  them  just 
now.  Have  you  given  notice  to  quit  your  lodgings  ?” 

Under  your  direction  I have.  Sir.” 

Then  I tell  you  what,”  said  Mr.  Boffin  ; ‘‘pay  the 
quarterns  rent — pay  the  quarter’s  rent,  it’ll  be  the  cheap- 
est thing  in  the  end — and  come  here  at  once,  so  that  you 
may  be  always  on  the  spot,  day  and  night,  and  keep  the 
expenses  down.  You’ll  charge  the  quarter’s  rent,  to  me, 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRimi), 


85 


and  we  must  try  and  save  it  somewhere.  YouVe  got 
some  lovely  furniture  ; havenH  you 

“ The  furniture  in  my  rooms  is  my  own.^^ 

Then  we  shanT  have  to  buy  any  for  you.  In  case 
you  was  to  think  of  it/^  said  Mr.  Boffin,  with  a look  of 
peculiar  shrewdness,  “ so  honorably  independent  in  you 
as  to  make  it*a  relief  to  your  mind,  to  make  that  furni- 
ture over  to  me  in  the  light  of  a set-off  against  the  quar- 
terns rent,  why  ease  your  mind,  ease  your  mind.  I doffit 
ask  it,  but  I woffit  stand  in  your  way  if  you  should  con- 
sider it  due  to  yourself.  As  to  your  room,  choose  any 
empty  room  at  the  top  of  the  house.” 

“ Any  empty  room  will  do  for  me,”  said  the  Secretary. 

‘‘You  can  take  your  pick,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  “and  it’ll 
be  as  good  as  eight  or  ten  shillings  a week  added  to  your 
income.  I won’t  deduct  for  it  ; I look  to  you  to  make  it 
up  handsomely  by  keeping  the  expenses  down.  N^ow,  if 
you’ll  show  a light,  I’ll  come  to  your  office-room  and  dis- 
pose of  a letter  or  two.” 

On  that  clear,  generous  face  of  Mrs.  Boffin’s,  Bella  had 
seen  such  traces  of  a pang  at  the  heart  while  this  dialogue 
was  being  held,  that  she  had  not  the  courage  to  turn  her 
eyes  to  it  when  they  were  left  alone.  Feigning  to  be  in- 
tent on  her  embroidery,  she  sat  plying  her  needle  until 
her  busy  hand  was  stopped  by  Mrs.  Boffin’s  hand  being 
lightly  laid  upon  it.  Yielding  to  the  touch,  she  felt  her 
hand  caiTied  to  the  good  soul’s  lips,  and  felt  a tear  fall 
on  it. 

“ Oh,  my  loved  husband  !”  said  Mrs.  Boffin.  “ This 
is  hard  to  see  and  hear.  But,  my  dear  Bella,  believe  me 
that  in  spite  of  all  the  change  in  him  he  is  the  best  of 
men.” 


86 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


He  came  back,  at  the  moment  when  Bella  had  taken 
the  hand  comfortingly  between  her  own. 

Eh  said  he,  mistrustfully  looking  in  at  the  door. 
What’s  she  telling  you 

She  is  only  praising  you,  Sir,”  said  Bella. 

Praising  me  ? You  are  sure  ? Not  blaming  me  for 
standing  on  my  own  defense  against  a crew*  of  plunderers, 
who  would  suck  me  dry  by  dribblets  ? Not  blaming  me 
for  getting  a little  hoard  together  ?” 

He  came  up  to  them,  and  his  wife  folded  her  hands  upon 
his  shoulder,  and  shook  her  head  as  she  laid  it  on  her 
hands. 

There,  there,  there  !”  urged  Mr.  BofiGin,  not  unkindly. 
Don’t  take  on,  old  lady.” 

But  I can’t  bear  to  see  you  so,  my  dear,’^ 

^‘Nonsense  ! Recollect,  we  are  not  our  old  selves. 
Recollect,  w^e  must  scrunch  or  be  scrunched.  Recollect, 
we  must  hold  our  owm.  Recollect,  money  makes  money. 
Don’t  you  be  uneasy,  Bella,  my  child  ; don’t  you  be  doubt- 
ful. The  more  I save,  the  more  you  shall  have,” 

Bella  thought  it  was  well  for  his  wife  that  she  was 
musing  with  her  afFectionate  face  on  his  shoulder  ; for 
there  was  a cunning  light  in  his  eyes  as  he  said  all  this 
which  seemed  to  cast  a disagreeable  illumination  on  the 
change  in  him,  and  make  it  morally  uglier. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


87 


CHxiPTER  VI. 

THE  GOLDEN  DUSTMAN  FALLS  INTO  WORSE  COMPANY. 

It  had  come  to  pass  that  Mr.  Silas  Wegg  now  rarely 
attended  the  minion  of  fortune  and  the  worm  of  the  hour, 
at  his  (the  worm^s  and  minion^s)  own  house,  but  lay  under 
general  instructions  to  await  him  within  a certain  margin 
of  hours  at  the  Bower.  Mr.  Wegg  took  this  arrange- 
ment in  great  dudgeon,  because  the  appointed  hours  were 
evening  hours,  and  those  he  considered  precious  to  the 
progress  of  the  friendly  move.  But  it  was  quite  in 
character,  he  bitterly  remarked  to  Mr.  Venus,  that  the 
upstart  who  had  trampled  on  those  eminent  creatures.  Miss 
Elizabeth,  Master  George,  Aunt  Jane,  and  Uncle  Parker, 
riiould  oppress  his  literary  man. 

The  Roman  Empire  having  worked  out  its  destruction, 
Mr.  Boffin  next  appeared  in  a cab  with  Rollings  Ancient 
History,  which  valuable  work  being  found  to  possess 
lethargic  properties,  broke  down,  at  about  the  period 
when  the  whole  of  the  army  of  Alexander  the  Macedon- 
ian (at  that  time  about  forty  thousand  strong)  burst  into 
tears  simultaneously,  on  his  being  taken  with  a shivering 
fit  after  bathing.  The  Wars  of  the  Jews,  likewise  lan- 
guishing under  Mr.  Wegg’s'  generalship,  Mr.  Boffin  ar- 
rived in  another  cab  with  Plutarch  : whose  Lives  he 
found  in  the  sequel  extremely  entertaining,  though  he 
hoped  Plutarch  might  not  expect  him  to  believe  them  all. 
What  to  believe,  in  the-  course  of  his  reading,  was  Mr. 


88 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


Boffin^s  chief  literary  difficulty  indeed ; for  some  time  he 
was  divided  in  his  mind  between  half,  all,  or  none  ; at 
length,  when  he  decided,  as  a moderate  man,  to  com- 
pound with  half,  the  question  still  remained,  which  half? 
And  that  stumbling-block  he  never  got  over. 

One  evening,  when  Silas  W egg  had  grown  accustomed 
to  the  arrival  of  his  patron  in  a cab,  accompanied  by 
some  profane  historian  charged  with  unutterable  names  of 
incomprehensible  peoples,  of  impossible  descent,  waging 
wars  any  number  of  years  and  syllables  long,  and  carry- 
ing illimitable  hosts  and  riches  about,  with  the  greatest 
ease,  beyond  the  confines  of  geography — one  evening  the 
usual  time  passed  by,  and  no  patron  appeared.  After 
half  an  hour^s  grace  Mr.  Wegg  proceeded  to  the  outer 
gate,  and  there  executed  a whistle,  conveying  to  ]\Ir. 
Venus,  if  perchance  within  hearing,  the  tidings  of  his  be- 
ing at  home  and  disengaged.  Forth  from  the  shelter  of 
a neighboring  wall  Mr.  Venus  then  emerged. 

Brother  in  arms,’^  said  Mr.  Wegg,  in  excellent  spirits, 
welcome 

In  return,  Mr.  Venus  gave  him  a rather  dry  good- 
evening. 

Walk  in,  brother,”  said  Silas,  clapping  him  on  the 
shoulder,  and  take  your  seat  in  my  chi m ley-corner  ; for 
what  says  the  ballad  ? 

‘No  malice  to  dread,  Sir, 

And  no  falsehood  to  fear. 

But  truth  to  delight  me,  Mr.  Venus, 

And  1 forgot  what  to  cheer, 

Li  toddle  dee  om  dee. 

And  something  to  guide. 

My  ain  fireside.  Sir, 

My  ain  fireside.’  ” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


89 


With  this  quotation  (depending  for  its  neatness  rather  on 
the  spirit  than  the  words)  Mr.  Wegg  conducted  his  guest 
to  his  hearth. 

''And  you  come,  brotheiV^  said  Mr.  Wegg,  in  a hos- 
pitable glow,  ‘'you  come  like  I don^t  know  what — ex- 
actly like  it — I shouldn't  know  you  from  it — shedding  a 
halo  all  around  you.^^ 

“ What  kind  of  halo  asked  Mr.  Yenus. 

“ Ope,  Sir,^^  replied  Silas.  " That^s  yow'  halo.^^ 

Mr.  Yenus  appeared  doubtful  on  the  point,  and  looked 
rather  discontentedly  at  the  fire. 

"YVll  devote  the  evening,  brother,’^  exclaimed  Wegg, 
" to  prosecute  our  friendly  move.  And  arterwards, 
crushing  a flowing  wine-cup — which  I allude  to  brewing 
rum  and  water — we^ll  pledge  one  another.  For  what 
says  the  Poet  ? 

‘ And  you  needn’t,  Mr.  Venus,  be  your  black  bottle, 

For  surely  I’ll  be  mine, 

And  we’ll  take  a glass  with  a slice  of  lemon  in  it  to  which  you’re 
partial. 

For  auld  lang  syne.’  ” 

This  flow  of  quotation  and  hospitality  in  Wegg  indicated 
his  observation  of  some  little  querulousness  on  the  part 
of  Yenus. 

“ Why,'  as  to  the  friendly  move,^^  observed  the  last- 
named  gentleman,  rubbing  his  knees  peevishly,  " one  of 
my  objections  to  it  is,  that  it  donH  move.^^ 

" Rome,  brother,^^  returned  Wegg  : " a city  which  (it 
may  not  be  generally  known)  originated  in  twins  and  a 
wolf,  and  ended  in  Imperial  marble  ; wasn’t  built  in 
a day.” 

" Did  I say  it  was  ?”  asked  Yenus. 


90 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND, 


3'Ou  did  not,  brother.  Well-inquired.” 

^^But  I do  say,”  proceeded  Venus,  that  I am  taken 
from  among  my  trophies  of  anatomy,  am  called  upon  to 
exchange  my  human  warious  for  mere  coal-ashes  warious, 
and  nothing  comes  of  it,  I think  I must  give  up.” 

No,  Sir  !”  remonstrated  Wegg,  enthusiastically. 
No,  Sir  ! 

Charge,  Chester,  charge, 

On,  Mr.  Venus,  on  P 

Never  say  die.  Sir  ! A man  of  your  mark  !” 

It^s  not  so  much  saying  it  that  I object  to,”  returned 
Mr.  Venus,  ‘^as  doing  it.  And  having  got  to  do  it 
whether  or  no,  I can^t  afford  to  waste  my  time  on  grop- 
ing for  nothing  in  cinders.” 

But  think  how  little  time  you  have  given  to  the  move, 
Sir,  after  all,”  urged  Wegg.  Add  the  evenings  so  oc- 
cupied together,  and  what  do  they  come  to  ? And  you, 
Sir,  harmonizer  with  myself  in  opinions,  views,  and  feel- 
ings, you  with  the  patience-  to  lit  together  on  wires  the 
whole  frame-work  of  society — I allude  to  the  human  skel- 
intoii — you  to  give  in  so  soon  !” 

I don^t  like  it,”  returned  Mr.  Venus  moodily,  as  he 
put  his  head  between  his  knees  and  stuck  up  his  dusty 
hair.  And  there^s  no  encouragement  to  go  on.” 

“ Not  them  Mounds  without,”  said  Mr.  Wegg,  ex- 
tending his  right  hand  with  an  air  of  solemn  reasoning, 
encouragement  ? Not  them  Mounds  now  looking  down 
upon  us  ?” 

“ Theyh’e  too  big,”  grumbled  Venus.  WhaBs  a 
scratch  here  and  a scrape  there,  a poke  in  this  place  and 
a dig  in  the  other,  to  them  ? Besides  ; what  have  we 
found  ?” 


1 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


91 


What  have  we  found  ?’^  cried  Wegg,  delighted  to  be 
able  to  acquiesce.  ‘‘  Ah  ! There  I grant  you,  com- 
rade. IS'othing.  But  on  the  contrary,  comrade,  what 
may  we  find  ? There  you’ll  grant  me.  Any  thing.” 

I don’t  like  it,”  pettishly  returned  Yenus  as  before. 
I came  into  it  without  enough  consideration.  And  be- 
sides again.  Isn’t  your  own  Mr.  Boffin  well  acquainted 
with  the  Mounds  ? And  wasn’t  he  well  acquainted  with 
the  deceased  and  his  ways  ? And  has  he  ever  showed  any 
expectation  of  finding  any  thing  ?” 

At  that  moment  wheels  were  heard. 

•‘Now,  I should  be  loth,”  said  Mr.  Wegg,  with  an  air 
of  patient  injury,  “ to  think  so  ill  of  him  as  to  suppose 
him  capable  of  coming  at  this  time  of  night.  And  yet  it 
sounds  like  him.” 

A ring  at  the  yard  bell. 

“ It  is  him,”  said  Mr.  Wegg,  “ and  he  is  capable  of  it. 
I am  sorry,  because  I could  have  wished  to  keep  up  a lit- 
tle lingering  fragment  of  respect  for  him.” 

Here  Mr.  Boffin  was  heard  lustily  calling  at  the  yard 
gate,  “Halloa  ! Wegg  ! Halloa  !” 

“ Keep  your  seat,  Mr.  Venus,”  said  Wegg.  “ He  may 
not  stop.”  And  then  called  out,  “ Halloa,  Sir  ! Halloa  ! 
I’m  with  you  directly.  Sir  ! Half  a minute,  Mr.  Boffin. 
Coming,  Sir,  as  fast  as  my  leg  will  bring  me  I”  And  so 
with  a show  of  much  cheerful  alacrity  stumped  out  to  the 
gate  with  a light,  and  there,  through  the  window  of  a cab, 
descried  Mr.  Boffin  inside,  blocked  up  with  books. 

“Here  ! lend  a hand,  Wegg,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  ex- 
citedly, “ I can’t  get  out  till  the  way  is  cleared  for  me. 
This  is  the  Annual  Kegister,  Wegg,  in  a cab-ful  of  wol- 
lumes.  Do  you  know  him  ?” 


92 


CUE  MUTUAL  FETEND. 


Know  the  Animal  Kegister,  Sir  V’  returned  the  Im- 
postor, who  had  caught  the  name  imperfectly.  For  a 
trifling  wager,  I think  I could  find  any  Animal  in  him, 
blindfold,  Mr.  Boffin. 

“And  here’s  Kirby’s  Wonderful  Museum,”  said  Mr. 
Boffin,  and  Caulfield’s  Characters,  and  Wilson’s,  Such 
Characters,  Wegg,  such  Characters  ! I must  have  one 
or  two  of  the  best  of  ’em  to-night.  It’s  amazing  what 
places  they  used  to  put  the  guineas  in,  wrapped  up  in 
rags.  Catch  hold  of  that  pile  of  wollumes,  Wegg,  or  it’ll 
bulge  out  and  burst  into  the  mud.  Is  there  any  one 
about  to  help  ?” 

“ There’s  a friend  of  mine,  Sir,  that  had  the  intention  of 
spending  the  evening  with  me  when  I gave  you  up — much 
against  my  will — for  the  night.” 

“ Call  him  out,”  cried  Mr.  Boffin,  in  a bustle  ; get 
him  to  bear  a hand.  Don’t  drop  that  one  under  your 
arm.  It’s  Dancer.  Him  and  his  sister  made  pies  of  a 
dead  sheep  they  found  when  they  were  out  a walking. 
Where’s  your  friend  ? Oh,  here’s  your  friend.  Would 
you  be  so  good  as  help  Wegg  and  myself  with  these  books  ? 
But  don’t  take  Jemmy  Taylor  of  Southwark,  nor  yet 
Jemmy  Wood  of  Gloucester.  These  are  the  two  Jem- 
mys.  I’ll  carry  them  myself.” 

Not  ceasing  to  talk  and  bustle,  in  a state  of  great  ex- 
citement Mr.  Boffin  directed  the  removal  and  arrange- 
ment of  the  books,  appearing  to  be  in  some  sort  beside 
himself  until  they  were  all  deposited  on  the  floor,  and  th 
cab  was  dismissed. 

“ There  !”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  gloating  over  them. 
‘‘  There  they  are,  like  the  four-aiid- twenty  fiddlers — all  of 
a row.  Get  on  your  spectacles,  Wegg  ; I know  wffiere 


OUK  MUTUAL  FKIEND. 


93 


to  find  the  best  of  ’em,  and  we’ll  have  a taste  at  once  of 
what  we  have  got  before  us.  What’s  your  friend’s 
name  ?” 

Mr.  Wegg  presented  his  friend  as  Mr.  Venus. 

Eh  ?”  cried  Mr.  Boffin,  catching  at  the  name.  Of 
Clerkenwell  ?” 

Of  Clerkenwell,  Sir,”  said  Mr.  Venus. 

Why  I’ve  heard  of  you,”  cried  Mr.  Boffin.  I 
heard  of  you  in  the  old  man’s  time.  You  knew  him. 
Did  you  ever  buy  any  thing  of  him  ?”  With  piercing 
eagerness. 

“ No,  Sir,”  returned  Venus. 

But  he  showed  you  things  ; didn’t  he  ?” 

Mr.  Venus,  with  a glance  at  his  friend,  replied  in  the 
affirmative. 

What  did  he  show  you  ?”  asked  Mr.  Boffin,  putting 
his  hands  behind  him,  and  eagerly  advancing  his  head. 
“ Did  he  show  you  boxes,  little  cabinets,  pocket-books, 
parcels,  any  thing  locked  or  sealed,  any  thing  tied 
up  ?” 

Mr.  Venus  shook  his  head. 

Are  you  a judge  of  china  ?” 

Mr.  Venus  again  shook  his  head. 

Because  if  he  had  ever  showed  you  a teapot  I should 
be  glad  to  know  of  it,”  said  Mr.  Boffin.  And  then,  with 
his  right  hand  at  his  lips,  repeated,  thoughtfully,  a Tea- 
pot, a Tea-pot,”  and  glanced  over  the  books  on  the  floor, 
as  if  he  knew  there  was  something  interesting  connected 
with  a tea-pot  somewhere  among  them. 

Mr.  Wegg  and  Mr.  Venus  looked  at  one  another 
wonderingly  ; and  Mr.  Wegg,  in  fitting  on  his  spectacles, 
opened  his  eyes  wide,  over  their  rims,  and  tapped  the  side 


94 


OUK  MtTtTAL  FMaNf).- 


of  bis-iiose  ; as  au  admonition  to  Yenus  to  keep  lilmSelf 
generally  wide  awake. 

A Tea-pot/^  repeated  Mr.  Boffin,  continuing  to  muse 
and  survey  the  books  ; a Tea-pot,  a Tea-pot.  Are  you 
ready,  Wegg 

I am  at  your  service,  SiiV^  replied  that  gentleman, 
taking  his  usual  seat  on  the  usual  settle,  and  poking  bis 
wooden  leg  under  the  table  before  it.  Mr.  Yenus, 
would  you  make  yourself  useful,  and  take  a seat  be- 
side  me,  Sir,  for  the  conveniency  of  snuffing  the 
candles 

Yenus  complying  with  the  invitation  while  it  was  yet 
being  given,  Silas  pegged  at  him  with  his  wooden 
leg,  to  call  his  particular  attention,  to  Mr.  Boffin  stand- 
ing musing  before  the  fire,  in  the  space  between  the 
two  settles. 

Hem  ! Ahem  I’^  coughed  Mr.  Wegg,  to  attract  his 
employer’s  attention.  Would  you  wish  to  commence 
with  an  Animal,  Sir — from  the  Register  V' 

No,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  no,  Wegg.”  Y^ith  that,  pro- 
ducing a little  book  from  his  breast-pocket,  he  handed  it 
with  great  care  to  the  literary  gentleman,  and  inquired, 
What  do  you  call  that,  Wegg  ?” 

‘^-This,  Sir,”  replied  Silas,  adjusting  his  spectacles,  and 
refc]*ring  to  the  title-page,  is  Merry  weather’s  Lives  and 
Anecdotes  of  Misers.  Mr.  Yenus,  would  you  make 
yourself  useful  and  draw  the  candles  a little  nearer,  Sir  ?” 
This  to  have  a special  opportunity  of  bestowing  a stare 
upon  his  comrade. 

Which  of  ’em  have  you  got  in  that  lot  ?”  asked  Mr. 
Boffin.  Can  you  find  out  pretty  easy  ?”  ^ 

Well,  Sir,”  replied  Silas,  turning  to  the  table  of  cou- 


OtR  MtJTtrAL  FKlUKDi 


95 


tents  and  slowly  fluttering  the  leaves  of  the  book,  I 
should  say  they  must  be  pretty  well  all  here,  Sir  ; here’s 
a large  assortment,  Sir  ; my  eye  catches  John  Overs, 
Sir,  John  Little,  Sir,  Dick  Jarrel,  John  Elwes^  the  Rev* 
erend  Mr.  Jones  of  Blewbnry,  Yulture  Hopkins,  Daniel 
Dancer — 

Give  us  Dancer, Wegg,’^  said  Mr.  Boffin. 

With  another  stare  at  his  comrade,  Silas  sought  and 
found  the  place. 

“ Page  a hundred  and  nine,  Mr.  Boffin.  Chapter 
eight.  Contents  of  chapter,  *His  birth  and  estate.  His 
garments  and  outward  appearance.  Miss  Dancer  and 
her  feminine  graces.  The  Miser’s  Mansion.  The  finding 
of  a treasure.  The  Story  of  the  Mutton  Pies.  A Miser’s 
Idea  of  Death.  Bob,  the  Miser’s  cur.  Griffiths  and  his 
Master.  How  to  turn  a penny.  A substitute  for  a fire. 
The  Advantages  of  keeping  a Snuft-box.  The  Miser  dies 
without  a Shirt.  The  Treasures  of  a Dunghill — ^ ” 

^‘Eh  ? What’s  that?”  demanded  Mr.  Boffin. 

‘ The  Treasures,’  Sir,”  repeated  Silas,  reading  very 
distinctly,  ^ of  a Dunghill.’  Mr.  Yenus,  Sir,  would  yon 
obleege  with  the  snuffers  ?”  This,  to  secure  attention  to 
his  adding  with  his  lips  only,  Mounds  I” 

Mr.  Boffin  drew  an  arm-chair  into  the  space  where  he 
stood,  and  said,  seating  himself  and  slyly  rubbing  his 
hands  : 

Give  us  Dancer.” 

Mr.  Wegg  pursued  the  biography  of  that  eminent  man 
through  its  various  phases  of  avarice  and  dirt,  through 
Miss  Dancers  death  on  a sick  regimen  of  cold  dumpling, 
and  through  Mr.  Dancer’s  keeping  his  rags  together  with 
a hay-band,  and  warming  his  dinner  by  sitting  upon  it, 


96 


OVU  MUTUAL  FRimD. 


down  to  the  consolatory  incident  of  his  dying  naked  in  a 
sack.  After  which  he  read  on  as  follo\v^  : 

^ The  house,  or  rather  the  heap  of  ruins,  in  which  Mr. 
Dancer  lived,  and  which  at  his  death  devolved  to  the  right 
of  Captain  Holmes,  was  a most  miserable,  decayed  building, 
for  it  had  not  been  repaired  for  more  than  half  a cen- 
tury.^ 

(Here  Mr.  Wegg  eyed  his  comrade  and  the  room  in 
which  they  sat  : which  had  not  been  repaired  for  a long 
time.) 

‘ But  though  poor  in  external  structure,  the  ruinous 
fabric  was  very  rich  in  the  interior.  It  took  many  weeks 
to  explore  its  whole  contents  ; and  Captain  Holmes  found 
it  a very  agreeable  task  to  dive  into  the  miser^s  secret 
hoards.^  ” 

(Here  Mr.  Wegg  repeated  ^ secret  hoards,’  and  pegged 
his  comrade  again.) 

' One  of  Mr.  Dancer’s  richest  escretoires  was  found  to 
be  a dung-heap  in  the  cow-house  ; a sum  but  little  short 
of  two  thousand  five  hundred  pounds  was  contained  in 
this  rich  piece  of  manure  ; and  in  an  old  jacket,  carefully 
tied,  and  strongly  nailed  down  to  the  manger,  in  bank- 
notes and  gold  were  found  five  hundred  pounds  more.’  ” 
(Here  Mr.  Wegg’s  wooden  leg  started  forward  under 
the  table  and  slowly  elevated  itself  as  he  read  on.) 

^ Several  bowls  were  discovered  filled  with  guineas 
and  half  guineas  ; and  at  different  times  on  searching  the 
corners  of  the  house  they  found  various  parcels  of  bank- 
notes. Some  were  crammed  into  the  crevices  of  the  wall ;’  ” 
(Here  Mr.  Yenus  looked  at  the  wall.) 

‘ Bundles  were  hid  under  the  cushions  and  covers  of 
the  chairs  ;’  ” 


OrR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


97 


(Here  Mr.  Yenus  looked  under  himself  on  the  settle.) 

' Some  were  reposing  snugly  at  the  back  of  the  draw- 
ers ; and  notes  amounting  to  six  hundred  pounds  were 
found  doubled  up  in  tlie  inside  of  an  old  tea-pot.  In  the 
stable  the  Captain  found  jugs  full  of  old  dollars  and  shil- 
lings. The  chimney  was  not  left  unsearched,  and  paid 
very  well  for  the  trouble  ; for  in  nineteen  different  holes, 
all  filled  with  soot,  were  found  various  sums  of  money, 
amounting  together  to  more  than  two  hundred  pounds.’’^ 

On  the  way  to  this  crisis  Mr.  Wegg’s  wooden  leg  had 
gradually  elevated  itself  more  and  more,  and  he  had  nudged 
Mr,  Yenus  with  his  opposite  elbow  deeper  and  deeper, 
until  at  length  the  preservation  of  his  balance  became 
incompatible  with  the  two  actions,  and  he  now  dropped 
over  sideways  upon  that  gentleman,  squeezing  him  against 
the  settle’s  edge.  Nor  did  either  of  the  two,  for  some 
few  seconds,  make  any  effort  to  recover  himself  ; both  re- 
maining in  a kind  of  pecuniary  swoon. 

But  the  sight  of  Mr.  Boffin  sitting  in  the  arm-chair 
hugging  himself,  with  his  eyes  upon  the  fire,  acted  as  a 
restorative.  Counterfeiting  a sneeze  to  cover  their  move- 
ments, Mr.  Wegg,  with  a spasmodic  ''  Tish-ho  1’’  pulled 
himself  and  Mr.  Yenus  up  in  a masterly  manner. 

Let’s  have  some  more,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  hungrily. 

‘'John  Elwes  is  the  next,  Sir.  Is  it  your  pleasure  to 
take  John  Elwes  V’ 

“Ah!”  said  Mr.  Boffin.  "Let’s  hear  what  John 
did.” 

He  did  not  appear  to  have  hidden  anything,  so  went 
off  rather  flatly.  But  an  exemplary  lady  named  Wil- 
cocks,  who  had  stowed  away  gold  and  silver  in  a pickle- 
]x>t  in  a clock-case,  a canister  full  of  treasure  in  a hole 


98 


OUR  3IUTUAL  FRIEND. 


under  her  stairs,  and  a quantity  of  money  in  an  old  rat* 
trap,  revived  the  interest.  To  her  succeeded  another 
lady,  claiming  to  be  a pauper,  whose  wealth  was  found 
wrapped  up  in  little  scraps  of  paper  and  old  rag.  To  her, 
another  lady,  applewoman  by  trade,  who  had  saved  a 
fortune  of  ten  thousand  pounds  and  hidden  it  here  and 
there,  in  cracks  and  corners,  behind  bricks  and  under  the 
flooring.’^  To  her,  a French  gentleman,  who  had  cram- 
med up  his  chimney,  rather  to  the  detriment  of  its  draw- 
ing powers,  ‘‘  a leather  valise,  containing  twenty  thousand 
francs,  gold  coins,  and  a large  quantity  of  precious  stones,’’ 
as  discovered  by  a chimney-sweep  after  his  death.  By 
these  steps  Mr.  Wegg  arrived  at  a concluding  instance  of 
the  human  Magpie  : 

^ Many  years  ago  there  lived  at  Cambridge  a miserly 
old  couple  of  tlie  name  of  Jardine  : they  had  two  sons  : 
the  father  was  a perfect  miser,  and  at  his  death  one  thou- 
sand guineas  were  discovered  secreted  in  his  bed.  The 
two  sons  grew  up  as  parsimonious  as  their  sire.  When 
about  twenty  years  of  age  they  commenced  business  at 
Cambridge  as  drapers,  and  they  continued  there  until 
their  death.  The  establishment  of  the  Messrs.  Jardine 
was  the  most  dirty  of  all  the  shops  in  Cambridge.  Cus- 
tomers seldom  went  in  to  purchase,  except  perhaps  out 
of  curiosity.  The  brothers  were  most  disreputable-look- 
ing beings  ; for,  although  surrounded  with  gay  apparel  as 
their  staple  in  trade,  they  wore  the  most  filthy  rags  them- 
selves. It  is  said  that  they  had  no  bed,  and,  to  save  the 
expense  of  one,  always  slept  on  a bundle  of  packing- 
cloths  under  the  counter.  In  their  housekeeping  they 
were  penurious  in  the  extreme.  A joint  of  meat  did  not 
grace  their  board  for  twenty  years.  Yet  when  the  first 


om  MUTtTAL  FETENB. 


99 


of  the  brothers  died,  the  other,  much  to  his  surprise, 
found  large  sums  of  money  which  had  been  secreted  even 
from  him.” 

''  There !”  cried  Mr.  Boffin*  “ Even  from  him,  you 
see  ! There  was  only  two  of  ’em,  and  yet  one  of  ’em  hid 
from  the  other.” 

Mr.  Venus,  who  since  his  introduction  to  the  French 
gentleman  had  been  stooping  to  peer  up  the  chimney,  had 
his  attention  recalled  by  the  last  sentence,  and  took  the 
liberty  of  repeating  it. 

Do  you  like  it  ?”  asked  Mr.  Boffin,  turning  suddenly. 

beg  your  pardon,  Sir  ?” 

Do  you  like  what  Wegg’s  been  a-reading  ?” 

Mr.  Venus  answered  that  he  found  it  extremely  inter- 
esting. 

^‘Then  come  again,”  said  Mr.  Boffin^  “and  hear  some 
more.  Come  when  you  like  ; come  the  day  after  to- 
morrow, half  an  hour  sooner.  There’s  plenty  more  ; 
there’s  no  end  to  it.” 

Mr.  Venus  expressed  his  acknowledgments  and  accept- 
ed the  invitation. 

“ It’s  wonderful  what’s  been  hid  at  one  time  and  ano- 
ther,” said  Mr.  Boffin,  ruminating  ; “ truly  wonderful.” 

“Meaning,  Sir,”  observed  Wegg,  with  a propitiatory 
face  to  draw  him  out,  and  with  another  peg  at  his  friend 
and  brother,  “ in  the  way  of  money.” 

“ Money,”  said  Mr.  Boffin.  “ Ah  I And*  papers.” 

Mr.  Wegg,  in  a languid  transport,  again  dropped  over 
on  Mr.  Venus,  and  again  recovering  himself,  masked  his 
emotions  with  a sneeze. 

“ Tish-ho  I Did  you  say  papers  too.  Sir  ? Been  hid- 
den, Sir?” 


100 


OtJlZ  MtmjAL 


Hidden  and  forgot,”  said  Mr.  Boffin.  ^^Why  the 
bookseller  that  sold  me  the  Wonderful  Museum — where’s 
the  Wonderful  Museum?”  He  was  on  his  knees  on  the 
floor  in  a moment,  groping  eagerly  among  the  books* 

Can  I assist  you,  Sir  ?”  asked  Wegg 
JSTo,  I have  got  it  ; here  it  is,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  dust- 
ing it  with  the  sleeve  of  his  coat.  Wollume  four.  I 
know  it  was  the  fourth  wollume  that  the  bookseller  read 
it  to  me  out  of.  Look  for  it,  Wegg.” 

Silas  took  the  book  and  turned  the  leaves* 

Remarkable  petrefaction,  Sir  ?” 

No,  that’s  not  it,”  said  Mr.  Boffin.  It  can’t  have 
been  a petrefaction.” 

Memoirs  of  General  John  Reid,  commonly  called  The 
Walking  Rushlight,  Sir  ? With  portrait  ?” 

No,  nor  yet  him,”  said  Mr.  Boffin. 

Remarkable  case  of  a man  who  swallowed  a crown 
piece,  Sir  ?” 

To  hide  it  ?”  asked  Mr.  Boffin. 

Why,  no.  Sir,”  replied  Wegg,  consulting  the  text, 
it  appears  to  have  been  done  by  accident.  Oh  ! This 
next  must  be  it.  ‘ Singular  discovery  of  a wdll,  lost 
twenty-one  years/  ” 

“ That’s  it !”  cried  Mr.  Boffin*  Read  that.” 

“ ‘ A most  extraordinary  case,’  read  Silas  Wegg  aloud, 
‘ was  tried  at  the  last  Maryborough  assizes  in  Ireland. 
It  was  briefly  this  : Robert  Baldwin,  in  March,  1782, 
made  his  will,  in  which  he  devised  the  lands  now  in  ques- 
tion to  the  children  of  his  youngest  son  ; soon  after  which 
his  faculties  failed  him,  and  he  became  altogether  child- 
ish and  died,  above  eighty  years  old.  The  defendant,  the 
eldest  son,  immediately  afterward  gave  out  that  his  father 


OUR  MUTUAI.  - FRIEND. 


101 


had  destroyed  the  will  ; and  no  will  being  found  he  en- 
tered into  possession  of  the  lands  in  question,  and  so  mat- 
ters remained  for  twenty-one  years,  the  whole  family  dur- 
ing all  that  time  believing  that  the  father  had  died  without  a 
will.  But  after  tweuty-one  years  the  defendant's  wife 
died,  and  he  very  soon  afterward,  at  the  age  of  seventy- 
eight,  married  a very  young  woman  : which  caused  some 
anxiety  to  his  two  sons,  whose  poignant  expressions  of 
this  feeling  so.  exasperated  their  father,  that  be  in  his  re- 
sentment executed  a will  to  disinherit  his  eldest  son,  and 
in  his  fit  of  anger  showed  it  to  his  second  son,  who  in- 
stantly determined  to  get  at  it,  and  destroy  it,  in  order 
to  preserve  the  property  to  his  brother.  With  this  view, 
lie  broke  open  his  father^s  desk,  where  he  found — not  his 
father^s  will  which  he  sought  after,  but  the  will  of  his 
grandfather,  which  was  then  altogether  forgotten  in  the 
family.^ 

“ There  said  Mr.  Boffin.  See  what  men  put  away 
and  forget,  or  mean  to  destroy,  and  doift  He  then 
added  in  a slow  tone,  As — ton — ish — ing  And  as 

he  rolled  his  eyes  all  round  the  room,  Wegg  and  Yenus 
likewise  rolled  their  eyes  all  round  the  room.  And  then 
Wegg,  singly,  fixed  his  eyes  on  Mr.  Boffin  looking  at  the 
fire  again  ; as  if  he  had  a mind  to  spring  upon  him  and 
demand  his  thoughts  or  his  life. 

However,  timers  up  for  to-night,^^  said  Mr.  Boffin, 
waving  his  hand  after  a silence.  More  the  day  after 
to-morrow.  Hange  the  books  upon  the  shelves,  AVegg,  I 
dare  say  Mr.  Yenus  will  be  so  kind  as  help  you.’^ 

AA^hile  speaking,  he  thrust  his  hand  into  the  breast  of 
his  outer  coat,  and  struggled  with  some  object  there  that 
was  too  large  to  be  got  out  easily.  Yv^hat  was  the  stupe- 


102 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIE]ST). 


faction  of  the  friendly  movers  when  this  object  at  last 
emerging,  proved  to  be  a much-dilapidated  dark  lantern  ! 

Without  at  all  noticing  the  effect  produced  by  this  lit- 
tle instrument,  Mr.  Boffin  stood  it  on  bis  knee,  and,  pro- 
ducing a box  of  matches,  deliberately  lighted  the  candle 
in  the  lantern,  blew  out  the  kindled  match,  and  cast  the 
end  into  the  fire.  Pm  going,  Wegg,^^  he  then  an- 
nounced., to  take  a turn  about  the  place  and  round  the 
yard.  I doffit  want  you.  Me  and  this  same  lantern 
have  taken  hundreds — thousands — of  such  turns  in  our 
time  together.^^ 

^^But  I couldn’t  think.  Sir — not  on  any  account,  I 
couldn’t,” — Wegg  was  politely  beginning,  when  Mr. 
Boffin,  who  had  risen  and  was  going  toward  the  door, 
stopped  : 

I hav^  told  you  that  I don’t  want  you,  Wegg.” 

Wegg  looked  intelligently  thoughtful,  as  if  that  had 
not  occurred  to  his  mind  until  he  now  brought  it  to  bear 
on  the  circumstance.  He  had  nothing  for  it  but  to  let 
Mr.  Boffin  go  out  and  shut  the  door  behind  him.  But 
the  instant  he  was  on  the  other  side  of  it  Wegg  clutched 
Venus  with  both  hands,  and  said  in  a choking  whisper,  as 
if  he  were  being  strangled  : 

Mr.  Venus,  he  must  be  followed,  he  must  be  watched, 
he  mustn’t  be  lost  sight  of  for  a moment.” 

<<  Why  mustn’t  he  ?”  asked  Venus,  also  strangling. 

‘‘  Comrade,  you  might  have  noticed  I was  a little  ele- 
wated  ill  spirits  when  you  come  in  to-night.  I’ve  found 
something.” 

“ What  have  you  found  ?”  asked  Venus,  clutching  him 
with  both  hands,  so  that  they  stood  interlocked  like  -a 
couple  of  preposterous  gladiators. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND, 


103 


There^s  no  time  to  tell  }^ou  now.  I think  he  must 
have  gone  to  look  for  it.  We  must  have  an  eye  upon 
him  instantly.^^ 

Releasing  each  other,  they  crept  to  the  door,  opened  it 
softly,  and  peeped  out.  It  was  a cloudy  night,  and  the 
black  shadow  of  the  Mounds  made  the  dark  yard  darker. 

If  not  a douVjle  swindler,^^  whispered  Wegg,  “ why  a 
dark  lantern  ? We  could  have  seen  what  he  was  about 
if  he  had  carried  a light  one.  Softly,  this  way.^^ 

Cautiously  along  the  path  that  was  bordered  by  frag- 
ments of  crockery  set  in  aShes  the  two  stole  after  him. 
They  could  hear  him  at  his  peculiar  trot,  crushing  the 
loose  cinders  as  he  went.  He  knows  the  place  by 
heart,^^  muttered  Silas,  and  douT  need  to  turn  his  lan- 
tern on,  confound  him  But  he  did  turn  it  on,  almost 
in  that  same  instant,  and  flashed  its  light  upon  the  first 
of  the  Mounds. 

Is  that  the  spot  asked  Yenus  in  a whisper. 

“ Ile^s  warm,’^  said  Silas  in  the  same  tone.  He^s 
precious  warm.  He’s  close.  I think  he, must  be  going  to 
look  for  it.  What’s  that  he’s  got  in  his  hand  ?” 

A shovel,”  answered  Yenus.  And  he  knows  how 
to  use  it,  remember,  fifty  times  as  well  as  either  of  us.” 
If  he  looks  for  it  and  misses  it,  partner,”  suggested 
Wegg,  what  shall  we  do  ?” 

First  of  all,  wait  till  he  does,”  said  Yenus. 

Discreet  advice  too,  for  he  darkened  his  lantern  again, 
and  the  mound  turned  black.  After  a few  seconds  he 
turned  the  light  on  once  more,  and  was  seen  standing  at 
the  foot  of  the  second  mound,  slowly  raising  the  lantern 
irttle  by  little  until  he  held  it  up  at  arm’s-length,  as  if  he 
were  examining  the  condition  of  the  whole  surface. 


104 


OUR  MUTUAI.  FRIUND, 


“ That  canT  be  the  spot  too  said  Venus. 

ISTo/^  said  Wegg,  he^s  getting  cold.’^ 

It  strikes  me,^^  whispered  VeniTs,  ‘^that  he  want? 
to  find  out  whether  any  one  has  been  groping  about 
there.^^ 

“ Hush  returned  Wegg,  he’s  getting  colder  and 
colder. — Now  he’s  freezing  !” 

This  exclamation  was  elicited  by  his  having  turned  the 
lantern  oif  again,  and  on  again,  and  being  visible  at  the 
foot  of  the  third  mound. 

Why,  he’s  going  up  it  !”*said  Venus. 

Shovel  and  all  !”  said  Wegg. 

At  a nimbler  trot,  as  if  the  shovel  over  his  shoulder 
stimulated  him  by  reviving  old  associations,  Mr.  Boffin^ 
ascended  the  “ serpentining  walk,”  iij)  the  Mound  which 
he  had  described  to  Silas  Wegg  on  the  occasion  of  their 
beginning  to  decline  and  fall.  On  striking  into  it  he 
turned  Ids  lantern  off.  The  two  followed  him,  stooping- 
low,  so  that  their  figures  might  make  no  mark  in  relief 
against  the  sky  when  he  should  turn  his  lanteni  on  again. 
Mr.  Venus  took  the  lead,  towing  Mr.  Wegg,  in  order 
that  his  refractory  leg  might  be  promptly  extricated  from 
any  pitfalls  it  should  dig  for  itself.  They  could  just  make 
out  that  the  Golden  Dustman  stopped  to  breathe.  Of 
course  they  sto|>ped  too,  instantly. 

Tills  is  his  own  Mound,”  whispered  Wegg,  as  he  re- 
covered Ills  wind,  this  one.” 

“ Why  all  three  are  his  own,”  returned  A^enus. 

“ So  lie  thinks  ; but  he’s  used  to  call  this  his  own, 
because  it’s  the  one  first  left  to  him  ; the  one  that  was 
bis  legacy  when  it  was  all  he  took  under  the  will  ” 

“ When  he  shows  his  light,”  said  A^eims,  keeping  watch 


OtiK  MUTUAL  FiriEND. 


105 


upon  his  dusky  figure  all  the  time,  '‘drop  lower  and  keep 
closer 

He  went  on  again,  and  they  follov/ed  again.  Gaining 
the  top  of  the  Mound,  he  turned  on  his  light — but  only 
partially — ^and  stood  it  on  the  ground.  A bare  lopsided 
weather-beaten  pole  Was  planted  in  the  ashes  there,  and 
had  been  there  many  a year.  Hard  by  this  pole  his  lan- 
tern stood  : lighting  a few  feet  of  the  lower  part  of  it  and 
a little  of  the  ashy  surfiice  around,  and  then  casting  off  a 
purposeless  little  clear  trail  of  light  into  the  air. 

" He  can  never  be  going  to  dig  up  the  pole  whis- 
pered Venus  as  they  dropped  low  and  kept  close. 

" Perhaps  it^s  holler  and  full  of  something,’^  whispered 
Wegg. 

He  was  going  to  dig,  with  whatsoever  object,  for  he 
tucked  up  his  cuffs  and  spat  on  his  hands,  and  then  went 
at  it  like  an  old  digger  as  he  was.  He  had  no  design 
upon  the  pole,  except  that  he  measured  a shovel’s  length 
from  it  before  beginning,  nor  was  it  his  purpose  to  dig 
deep.  Some  dozen  or  so  of  expert  strokes  sufficed. 
Then  he  stopped,  looked  down  into  the  cavity,  bent  over 
it,  and  took  out  what  appeared  to  be  an  ordinary  case- 
bottle  : one  of  those  squat,  high-shouldered,  short-necked 
glass  bottles  which  the  Dutchman  is  vSaid  to  keep  his 
Courage  in.  As  soon  as  he  had  done  this  he  turned  off 
his  lantern,  and  they  could  hear  that  he  was  filling  up  the 
hole  in  the  dark.  The  ashes  being  easily  moved  by  a 
skillful  hand,  the  spies  took  this  as  a hint  to  make  off  in 
good  time.  Accordingly,  Mr.  Venus  slipped  past  Mr. 
Wegg  and  towed  him  down.  But  Mr.  Wegg’s  descent 
was  not  accomplished  without  some  personal  incon- 
venience, for  his  self-willed  leg  sticking  into  the  ashes 


106 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEKD. 


about  half-way  down,  and  time  pressing,  Mr.  Venus  took 
the  liberty  of  hauling  him  from  his  tether  by  the  collar  i 
which  occasioned  him  to  make  the  rest  of  the  journey  on 
his  back,  with  his  head  enveloped  in  the  skirts  of  his 
coat,  and  his  wooden  leg  coming  last,  like  a drag.  So 
flustered  was  Mr.  Wegg  by  this  mode  of  traveling,  that 
when  he  was  set  on  the  level  ground  with  his  intellectual 
developments  uppermost,  he  was  quite  unconscious  of  his 
bearings,  and  bad  not  the  least  idea  where  his  place  of 
residence  was  to  be  found,  until  Mr.  Venus  shoved  him 
into  it.  Even  then  he  staggered  round  and  round,  weakly 
staring  about  him,  until  Mr.  Venus  with  a hard  brush 
brushed  his  senses  into  him  and  the  dust  out  of  him. 

Mr.  Boffin  came  down  leisurely,  for  this  brushing  pro- 
cess had  been  well  accomplished,  and  Mr.  Venus  had  had 
time  to  take  his  breath,  before  he  reappeared.  That  he 
had  the  bottle  somewhere  about  him  could  not  be 
doubted  ; where,  was  not  so  clear.  He  wore  a large 
rough  coat,  buttoned  over,  and  it  might  be  in  any  one  of 
half  a dozen  pockets. 

What’s  the  matter,  Wegg  said  Mr.  Boffin.  You 
are  as  pale  as  a candle.” 

Mr.  Wegg  replied,  with  literal  exactness,  that  he  felt 
as  if  he  had  had  a turn. 

Bile,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  blowing  out  the  light  in  the 
lantern,  shutting  it  up,  and  stowing  it  away  in  the 
breast  of  his  coat  as  before.  Are  you  subject  to  bile, 
Wegg  ?” 

Mr.  Wegg  again  replied,  with  strict  adherence  to  truth, 
that  he  didn’t  think  he  had  ever  had  a similar  sensation 
in  his  head,  to  any  thing  like  the  same  extent. 

Physic  yourself  to-morrow,  Wegg,”  said  Mr.  Boffin, 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


107 


to  be  ill  order  for  next  night.  Bj-the-by,  this  neighbor- 
hood is  going  to  have  a loss,  Wegg.’^ 

‘‘A  loss,  Sir?'’ 

Going  to  lose  the  Mounds.” 

The  friendly  movers  made  such  an  obvious  effort  not  to 
look  at  one  another,  that  they  might  as  well  have  stared 
at  one  another  with  all  their  might. 

Have  you  parted  with  them,  Mr.  Boffin  ?”  asked 
Silas. 

Yes ; they’re  going.  Mine’s  as  good  as  gone 
already.” 

You  mean  the  little  one  of  the  three,  with  the  pole 
atop,  Sir.” 

Yes,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  rubbing  his  ear  in  his  old  way, 
with  that  new  touch  of  craftiness  added  to  it.  “ It 
has  fetched  a penny.  It’ll  begin  to  be  carted  off  to- 
morrow\” 

Have  you  been  out  to  take  leave  of  your  old  friend, 
Sir  ?”  asked  Silas,  jocosely. 

Yo,”  said  Mr.  Boffin.  What  the  devil  put  that  iu 
your  head  ?” 

He  was  so  sudden  and  rough,  that  Wegg,  who  had 
been  hovering,  closer  and  closer  to  his  skirts,  dispatohing 
the  back  of  his  hand  on  exploring  expeditions  in  search 
of  the  bottle’s  surface,  retired  two  or  three  paces. 

No  offense.  Sir,”  said  Wegg,  humbly.  ^‘No  of- 
fense.” 

Mr.  Boffin  eyed  him  as  a dog  might  eye  another  dog 
who  wanted  his  bone  ; and  actually  retorted  with  a low 
growl,  as  the  dog  might  have  retorted. 

Good-night,”  he  said,  after  having  sunk  into  a moody 
silence,  with  his  hands  clasped  behind  him,  and  his  eyes 


108 


CUE  IVtUTUAL  FEIEND. 


suspiciously  wandering  about  Wegg.  ‘MS'o  ! stop  there. 
I know  the  way  out,  and  I want  no  light. 

Avarice,  and  the  evening^s  legends  of  avarice,  and  the 
inflammatory  effect  of  what  he  had  seen,  and  perhaps  the 
rush  of  liis  ill-conditioned  blood  to  his  brain  in  his  descent, 
wrought  Silas  Wegg  to  such  a pitch  of  insatiable  ap- 
petite, that  when  the  door  closed  he  made  a swoop  at  it 
and  drew  Yenus  along  with  him. 

‘‘  He  musiiflt  go  he  cried.  ‘‘  We  mustn't  let  him 
go  ! He  has  got  that  bottle  about  him.  Vi e must  have 
that  bottle  !^’ 

‘'Why,  you  wouldift  take  it  by  force  said  Yenus, 
restraining  him  ? 

“ \Yonldiflt  I ? Yes  I would.  I^d  take  it  by  any  force, 
Vd  have  it  at  any  price  ! Are  you  so  afraid  of  one  old 
man  as  to  let  him  go,  you  coward 

“ I am  so  afraid  of  you  as  not  to  let  you  go,^^  muttered 
Yemis,  sturdily,  clasping  him  in  his  arms. 

“Did  you  hear  him  retorted  Y^egg.  “Did  you 
hear  him  say  that  he  wms  resolved  to  disappoint  us  ? Did 
you  bear  him  say,  you  cur,  that  lie  was  going  to  have  the 
Mounds  cleared  off,  when  no  doubt  the  whole  place  will 
be  rummaged  ? If  you  haven’t  the  spirit  of  a mouse  to 
defend  your  rights,  I have.  Let  me  go  after  him.^’ 

As  in  his  Avildness  he  was  making  a strong  struggle  for 
it,  Mr.  Yenus  deemed  it  expedient  to  lift  him,  throw  him, 
and  fall  with  him  ; well  knowing  that,  once  down,  he 
would  not  be  up  again  easily  with  his  wooden  leg.  So 
they  both  rolled  on  the  floor,  and,  as  they  did  so,  Mr 
Boffin  shut  the  gate. 


OUK  OTTUAL  FEIENO. 


109 


CHAPTER  YII. 

THE  FRIENDLY  MOVE  TAKES  UP  A STRONG  POSITION. 

The  friendly  movers  sat  upright  on  the  floor,  panting 
and  eyeing  one  another,  after  Mr.  Boffin  had  slammed 
♦ the  gate  and  gone  away.  In  the  weak  eyes  of  Venus, 
and  in  every  reddish  dust* colored  hair  in  his  shock  of  hair, 
there  was  a marked  distrust  of  Wegg  and  an  alertness  to 
fly  at  him  on  perceiving  the  smallest  occasion.  In  the 
hard-grained  face  of  Wegg,  and  in  his  stifl*  knotty  figure 
(he  looked  like  a German  wooden  toy),  there  was  ex- 
pressed a politic  conciliation,  which  had  no  spontaneity  in 
it.  Both  were  flushed,  flustered,  and  rumpled,  by  the 
late  scuffie  ; and  W egg,  in  coming  to  the  ground,  had 
received  a humming  knock  on  the  back  of  his  devoted 
head,  which  caused  him  still  to  rub  it  with  an  air  of  hav- 
ing been  highly — but  disagreeably — astonished.  Each 
was  silent  for  some  time,  leaving  it  to  the  other  to 
begin.  ; 

Brother,’^  said  Wegg,  at  length  breaking  the  silence, 
you  were  right,  and  I was  wrong.  I forgot  myself.^^ 
Mr.  Venus  knowingly  cocked  his  shock  of  hair,  as 
rather  thinking  Mr.  Wegg  had  remembered  himself,  in 
respect  of  appearing  without  any  disguise. 

'‘But  comrade,’^  pursued  Wegg,  “it  was  never  your 
lot  to  know  Miss  Elizabeth,  Master  George,  Aunt  Jane, 
nor  Uncle  Parker.” 


no 


OUR  l^rimiAL  FRIEND. 


Mr.  Yenus  admitted  that  he  had  never  known  those 
dfetinguished  persons^  and  added,  in  effect,  that  he  had 
never  so  much  as  desired  the  honor  of  their  acquaint- 
ance. 

‘'Don’t  say  that,  comrade  1”  retorted  Wegg.  No, 
don’t  say  that  ! Because,  without  having  known  them, 
you  never  can  fully  know  what  it  is  to  be  stimilated  to 
frenzy  by  the  sight  of  the  Usurper.” 

Offering  these  excusatory  words  as  if  they  reflected 
great  credit  on  himself,  Mr.  Wegg  impelled  himself  with 
his  hands  toward  a chair  in  a corner  of  the  room,  and» 
there,  after  a variety  of  awkward  gambols,  attained  a 
perpendicular  position.  Mr.  Yenus  also  rose. 

“Comrade,”  said  Wegg,  “take  a seat.  Comrade, 
what  a speaking  countenance  is  yours  !” 

Mr.  Yenus  involuntarily  smoothed  his  countenance,  and 
looked  at  his  hand,  as  if  to  see  whether  any  of  its  speak- 
ing properties  came  off. 

“ For  clearly  do  I know,  mark  you,”  pursued  Wegg, 
pointing  his  words  with  his  forefinger,  “ clearly  do  I 
know  what  question  your  expressive  features  puts  to 
me.” 

“ Y^hat  question  ?”  said  Yenus. 

“ The  question,”  returned  W^egg,  with  a sort  of  joyful 
affability,  “why  I didn’t  mention  sooner  that  I had  found 
something.  Says  your  speaking  countenance  to  me  : — 
“ Why  didn’t  you  communicate  that  when  I fitist  came  in 
this  evening  ? Why  did  you  keep  it  back  till  you  thought 
Mr.  Boffin  had  come  to  look  lor  the  article  V Your 
speaking  countenance,”  said  Wegg,  “puts  it  plainer  than 
language.  Now,  you  can’t  read  in  my  face  what  answer' 
I give  ?” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


Ill 


I can^t/^  said  Yenus, 

I knew  it  ! And  why  not  returned  Wegg,  with 
the  same  joyful  candor.  Because  I lay  no  claims  to  a 
speaking  countenance.  Because  I am  well  aware  of  my 
deficiencies.  All  men  are  not  gifted  alike.  But  I can 
answer  in  words.  And  in  what  words  ? These.  I 
wanted  to  give  you  a delightful  sap—pur — ize 

Having  thus  elongated  and  emphasized  the  word  Sur* 
prise,  Mr.  Wegg  shook  his  friend  and  brother  by  both 
hands,  and  then  clapped  him  on  both  knees,  like  an  affec- 
tionate patron  who  entreated  him  not  to  mention  so  small 
a service  as  that  which  it  had  been  his  happy  privilege  to 
render. 

Your  speaking  countenance,^^  said  Wegg,  being  an- 
swered to  its  satisfaction,  only  asks  then,  ^ What  have 
you  found  V Why,  I hear  it  say  the  words 

Well?’^  retorted  Yenus,  snappishly,  after  waiting  in 
vain.  If  you  hear  it  say  the  words,  why  donT  you  an- 
swer it 

“ Hear  me  out  said  Wegg.  Im  a-going  to.  Hear 
me  out  ! Man  and  brother,  partner  iij  feelings  equally 
with  undertakings  and  actions,  I have  found  a cash- 
box.^’ 

“ Where 

“ — Hear  me  out  F’  said  Wegg.  (He  tried  to  reserve 
whatever  he  could,  and,  whenever  disclosure  was  forced 
upon  him,  broke  into  a radiant  gush  of  Hear  me  outA 
On  a certain  day.  Sir — 

When  said  Yenus,  bluntly. 

— no,^^  returned  Wegg,  shaking  his  head  at  once 
observantly,  thoughtfully,  and  playfully,  ^^No,  Sir! 
That^s  not  your  expressive  countenance  which  asks  that 


112 


OUK  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


question.  That^s  your  voice  ; merely  your  voice.  To 
proceed.  On  a certain  day,  Sir,  I happened  to  be  walk- 
ing in  the  yard — taking  my  lonely  round — for  in  the  words 
of  a friend  of  my  own  family,  the  author  of  AlPs  Well 
arranged  as  a duet  : 

‘ Deserted,  as  you  will  reniemher,  Mr.  Venus,  by  tbe  waning  moon, 
Vv'ben  stars,  it  will  occur  to  you  before  I mention  it,  proclaim  night’s 

cheerless  noon, 

On  tower,  fort^  or  tented  ground, 

The  sentry  walks  his  lonely  round,  . 

The  sentry  walks 

— under  those  circumstances,  Sir,  I happened  to  be  walk- 
ing in  the  yard  early  one  afternoon,  and  happened  to  have 
an  iron  rod  in  my  hand,  with  which  I have  been  some- 
times accustomed  to  beguile  the  monotony  of  a literary 
life,  when  I struck  it  against  an  object  not  necessary  to 
trouble  you  by  naming — 

It  is  necessary.  What  object  demanded  Venus, 
in  a wrathful  tone. 

— Hear  me  out  P said  Wegg.  “ The  Pump. — When 
I struck  it  against  the  Pump,  and  found,  not  only  that 
the  top  was  loose  and  opened  with  a lid,  but  that  some- 
thing in  it  rattled.  That  something,  comrade,  I discover- 
ed to  be  a small  flat  oblong  cash-box.  Shall  I say  it  was 
disappintingly  light 

There  were  papers  in  it,’^  said  Venus. 

There  your  expressive  countenance  speaks  indeed  !” 
cried  Wegg.  A paper.  The  box  was  locked,  tied  up, 
and  sealed,  and  on  the  outside  was  a parchment  label, 
with  the  writing,  my  will,  johx  harmox,  temporarily  de- 
posited HERE.^ 

We  must  know  its  contents,^'  said  Venus. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


113 


— Hear  me  out  cried  Wegg\  I said  so,  and  I 
broke  the  box  open.” 

Without  coming  to  me  !”  exclaimed  Yenus. 

Exactly  so,  Sir  !”  returned  Wegg,  blandly  and  buoy- 
antly. ‘‘I  see  I take  you  with  me  ! Hear,  hear,  hear  ! 
Resolved,  as  your  discriminating  good  sense  perceives, 
timt  if  you  was  to  have  a sap — pur — ize  it  would  be  a 
complete  one  ! Y^ell,  Sir.  And  so,  as  you  have  honored 
me  by  anticipating,  I examined  the  document.  Regularly 
executed,  regularly  witnessed,  very  short.  Inasmuch  as 
he, has  never  made  friends,  and  has  ever  had  a rebellious 
family,  he,  John  Harmon,  gives  to  Nicodemus  Boffin  the 
Little.  Mound,  which  is  quite  enough  for  him,  and  gives 
the  whole  rest  and  residue  of  his  property  to  the  Crown.” 
“ The  date  of  the  will  that  has  been  proved  must  be 
looked  to,”  remarked  Yenus.  It  may  be  later  than  this 
one.” 

“ — Hear  me  out  !”  cried  ^Vegg.  ‘‘  I said  so.  I paid 
a shilling  (?iever  mind  your  sixpence  of  it)  to  look  up 
that  will.  Brother,  that  will  is  dated  months  before  this 
will.  And  now,  as  a fellow-man,  and  as  a partner  in 
a friendly  move,”  added  W^egg,  benignantly  taking 
liim  by  both  hands  again,  and  clapping  him  on  both 
knees  again,  say  have  I completed  my  labor  of 
love  to  your  perfect  satisfaction,  and  are  you  sap — pur — 

IZED  ?” 

Mr.  Yenus  contemplated  his  fellow-man  and  partner 
with  doubting  eyes,  and  then  rejoined  stiffly  ; 

This  is  great  news  indeed,  Mr.  Y^egg.  There’s  no 
denying  it.  But  I could  have  wished  you  had  told  it  me 
before  you  got  your  fright  to-night,  and  I could  have 
wished  you  had  ever  asked  me  as  your  partner  what  we 


Hi  OI3R  MUTUAL  FRIEND, 

«\^ere  to  do,  before  you  thought  you  were  dividiug  a re- 
sponsibility,” 

— Hear  me  out  !”  cried  Wegg,  I knew  you  was  a- 
goiug  to  say  so.  But  alone  I bore  the  anxiety,  and 
alone  Fil  bear  the  blame  This  with  an  air  of  great 
magnanimity. 

Now,”  said  Yenus.  LeYs  see  this  will  and  this  box,” 
Do  I understand,  brother,”  returned  Wegg  with  con- 
siderable reluctance,  that  it  is  your  wish  to  see  this  will 
and  this — ” 

Mr.  Yenus  smote  the  table  with  his  hand. 

— Hear  me  out  J”  said  Wegg,  Hear  me  out  1 I’ll 
go  and  fetch  ’em.” 

After  being  some  time  absent,  as  if  in  his  covetousness 
he  coiiJd  hardly  make  up  his  mind  to  produce  the  treasuie 
to  his  partner,  he  returned  with  an  old  leathern  hat-box, 
into  whicli  he  had  put  the  other  box,  for  the  better  pre- 
servation of  commonplace  appearances,  and  for  the  dis- 
arming of  suspicion.  But  I don’t  half  like  opening  it 
here,”  said  Silas,  in  a low  voice,  looking  around : he 

might  come  back,  he  may  not  be  gone  ; we  don’t  know 
what  he  may  be  up  to,  after  what  we’ve  seen,” 

Tliere’s  something  in  that,”  assented  Yenus,  Come 
to  ray  place.” 

Jealous  of  the  custody  of  the  box,  and  yet  fearful  of 
opening  it  under  the  existing  circumstances,  Wegg  hesi- 
tated, Come,  I tell  you,”  repeated  Yenus,  chafing, 
to  my  place.”  Not  very  well  seeing  his  way  to  a re- 
fusal, Mr.  Y^egg  then  rejoined  in  a gush,  — Hear  me 
out  ! — Certainly.”  So  he  locked  up  the  Bower  and  they 
set  forth  : Mr.  Yenus  taking  his  arm,  and  keeping  it  with 
remarkable  tenacity. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


115 


They  found  the  usual  dim  light  burning  in  the  window 
of  Mr.  Yenus^s  establishment,  imperfectly  disclosing  to  the 
public  the  usual  pair  of  preserved  frogs,  sword  in  hand, 
with  their  point  of  honor  still  unsettled.  Mr.  Yenus  had 
closed  his  shop  door  on  coming  out,  and  now  opened  it 
with  the  key  and  shut  it  again  as  soon  as  they  were  with- 
in ; but  not  before  he  had  put  up  and  barred  the  shutters 
of  the  shop  window.  No  one  can  get  in  without  being 
let  in,^^  said  he  then,  and  we  couldn’t  be  more  snug  than 
here.”  So  he  raked  together  the  yet  warm  cinders  in  the 
rusty  grate,  and  made  a fire,  and  trimmed  the  candle  on 
the  little  counter.  As  the  fire  cast  its  flickering  gleams 
here  and  there  upon  the  dark  greasy  walls,  the  Hindoo 
baby,  the  xlfrican  baby,  the  articulated  English  baby,  the 
assortment  of  skulls,  and  the  rest  of  the  collection,  came 
starting  to  their  various  stations  as  if  they  had  all  been 
out,  like  their  master,  and  were  punctual  in  a general 
rendezvous  to  assist  at  the  secret.  The  French  gentle- 
man had  grown  considerably  since  Mr.  Wegg  last  saw 
him,  being  now  accommodated  with  a pair  of  legs  and  a 
head,  though  his  a^ms  were  yet  in  abeyance.  To  whom- 
soever the  head  had  originally  belonged,  Silas  Y^egg 
would  have  regarded  it  as  a personal  favor  if  he  had  not 
cut  quite  so  many  teeth. 

Silas  took  his  seat  in  silence  on  the  wooden  box  before 
the  fire,  and  Yenus  dropping  into  his  low  chair  produced 
from  among  his  skeleton  hands  his  tea-tray  and  tea-cups, 
and  put  the  kettle  on.  Silas  inwardly  approved  of  these 
preparations,  trusting  they  might  end  in  Mr.  Yenus’s  di- 
luting his  intellect. 

Now,  Sir,”  said  Yenus,  all  is  safe  and  quiet.  Let 
us  see  this  discovery.” 


116 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


With  still  reluctant  bands,  and  not  without  several 
glances  toward  the  skeleton  hands,  as  if  be  mistrusted 
that  a couple  of  them  might  spring  forth  and  clutch  the 
document,  Wegg  opened  tlie  hat-box  and  revealed  the 
cash  ‘box,  opened  the  cash-box  and  revealed  the  will.  He 
held  a corner  of  it  tight,  while  Venus,  taking  hold  of 
another  corner,  searchingly  and  attentively  read  it. 

‘'Was  I correct  in  my  account  of  it,  partner  said 
Mr.  Wegg  at  length. 

" Partner,  you  were,”  said  Mr.  Venus. 

Mr.  Wegg  thereupon  made  an  easy,  graceful  move- 
ment, as  though  he  would  fold  it  up  ; but  Mr.  Venus 
held  on  by  his  corner. 

“Xo,  Sir,”  said  Mr.  Venus,  winking  his  weak  eyes  and 
shaking  his  head.  “ Xo,  partner.  The  question  is  now 
brought  up,  who  is  going  to  take  care  of  this.  Do  you 
know  who  is  going  to  take  care  of  this,  partner 

" I am,”  said  Wegg. 

" Oh  dear  no,  partner,”  retorted  Venus.  “ That^s  a 
mistake.  I am.  Xow  look  here,  Mr.  Wegg.  I donT 
want  to  have  any  words  with  you,  and  still  less  do  I want 
to  have  any  anatomical  pursuits  with  you.” 

"What  do  you  mean  ?”  said  Wegg,  quickly. 

"I  mean,  partner,”  replied  Venus,  slowly,  "that  it^s 
hardly  possible  for  a man  to  feel  in  a more  amiable  state 
toward  another  man  than  I do  toward  you  at  this  present 
moment.  But  I am  on  my  own  ground,  I am  sur- 
rounded by  the  trophies  of  my  art,  and  my  tools  is  very 
handy.” 

"What  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Venus?”  asked  Wegg, 
again. 

" I am  surrounded,  as  I have  observed,”  said  Mr.  Ve- 


OtTR  MUTUAL  FElEJn3. 


117 


ntis,  placidly,  '^by  the  trophies  of  my  art.  They  are 
numerous,  my  stock  of  human  warious  is  large,  the  shop 
is  pretty  well  crammed,  aud  I don’t  just  now  want  any 
more  trophies  of  my  art.  But  I like  my  art,  and  I know 
how  to  exercise  my  art.’’ 

No  man  better,”  assented  Mr.  Wegg,  with  a some- 
what staggered  air. 

There’s  the  Miscellanies  of  several  human  specimens,” 
said  Yenus,  “ (though  you  mightn’t  think  it)  in  the  box 
on  which  you’re  sitting.  There’s  the  Miscellanies  of 
several  human  specimens  in  the  lovely  compo-one  behind 
the  door  with  a nod  toward  the  French  gentleman. 

It  still  wants  a pair  of  arms.  I donH  say  that  I’m  in 
any  hurry  for  ’em.” 

You  must  be  wandering  in  your  mind,  partner,”  Silas 
remonstrated. 

You’ll  excuse  me  if  I wander,”  returned  Venus; 

I am  sometimes  ratlier  subject  to  it.  I like  my  art,  and 
I know  how  to  exercise  my  art,  and  I mean  to  have  the 
keeping  of  this  document.” 

“ But  what  has  that  got  to  do  with  your  art,  partner  ?” 
asked  Wegg,  in  an  insinuating  tone. 

Mr.  Venus  winked  his  chronically-fatigued  eyes  both 
at  once,  and  adjusting  the  kettle  on  the  fire,  remarked  to 
himself,  in  a hollow  voice,  She’ll  bile  in  a couple  of 
minutes.” 

Silas  Wegg  glanced  at  the  kettle,  glanced  at  the 
shelves,  glanced  at  the  French  gentleman  behind  the 
door,  and  shrank  a little  as  he  glanced  at  Mr.  Venus 
winking  his  red  eyes,  and  feeling  in  his  waistcoat  pocket 
—as  for  a lancet,  say — with  his  unoccupied  hand.  He 
and  Venus  were  necessarily  seated  close  together,  as  each 


118 


OtJR  MtTUAL  MlEKD. 


held  a corner  of  the  document,  which  was  but  a common 
sheet  of  paper. 

Partner,’^  said  Wegg,  even  more  insinuatingly  than 
before,  1 propose  that  we  cut  it  in  half,  and  each  keep 
a half.^^ 

Tenus  shook  his  shock  of  hair,  as  he  replied,  It 
wouldn’t  do  to  mutilate  it,  partner.  It  might  seem  to  be 
canceled.^’ 

“Partner,’^  said  Wegg,  after  a silence,  during  which 
they  had  contemplated  one  another,  don’t  your  speak- 
ing countenance  say  that  you’re  a-going  to  suggest  a mid- 
dle course  ?” 

Venus  shook  his  shock  of  hair  as  he  replied,  ‘^Part- 
ner, you  have  kept  this  paper  from  me  once.  You 
shall  never  keep  it  from  me  again.  I offer  you  the  box 
and  the  label  to  take  care  of,  but  I’ll  take  care  of  the 
paper.” 

Silas  hesitated  a little  longer,  and  then  suddenly  releas- 
ing his  corner,  and  resuming  his  buoyant  and  benignant 
tone,  exclaimed,  What’s  life  without  trustfulness  I 
What’s  a fellow-man  without  honor  ! You’re  welcome  to 
it,  partner,  in  a spirit  of  trust  and  confidence.” 

Continuing  to  wink  his  red  eyes  both  together — but  in 
a self-communing  way,  and  without  any  show  of  triumph 
— Mr.  Venus  folded  the  paper  now  left  in  his  hand,  and 
locked  it  in  a drawer  behind  him,  and  pocketed  the  key. 
He  then  proposed  ‘‘  A cup  of  tea,  partner  ?”  To  which 
Mr.  Wegg  returned,  ^^Thank’ee,  partner,”  and  the  tea 
was  made  and  poured  out. 

Next,”  said  Venus,  blowing  at  his  tea  in  his  saucer, 
and  looking  over  it  at  his  confidential  friend,  comes  the 
question,  What’s  the  course  to  be  pursued  ?” 


OUR  3IUTUAL  FRIEIS’D.  119 

On  this  h-ead  Silas  Wegg  bad  much  to  say.  Silas  had 
to  say  That,  he  would  beg  to  remind  his  eomrade^  brother, 
and  partner,  of  the  impressive  passages  they  had  read 
that  evening  ; of  the  evident  parallel  in  Mr.  Boffiids  mind 
between  them  and  the  late  owner  of  the  Bower,  and  the 
]>resent  circumstances  of  the  Bower  ; of  the  bottle  ; and 
of  the  box.  That,  the  fortunes  of  his  brother  and  com- 
rade, and  of  himself,  were  evidently  made,  inasmuch  as 
they  had  but  to  put  their  price  upon  this  document,  and 
get  tliat  price  from  the  minion  of  fortune  and  the  worm 
of  the  hour  : who  now  appeared  to  be  less  of  a minion 
and  more  of  a worm  than  had  been  previously  supposed. 
That,  he  considered  it  plain  that  such  price  was  stateable 
in  a single  expressive  word,  and  that  the  word  was^ 
Halves  That,  the  question  then  arose  when  Halves 
should  be  called.  That,  here  he  had  a plan  of  action  to 
recommend,  with  a conditional  clause.  That,  the  plan  of 
action  was  that  they  should  lie  by  with  patience  ^ that, 
they  should  allow  the  mounds  to  be  gradually  leveled  and 
cleared  away,  while  retaining  to  themselves  their  present 
opportunity  of  watching  the  process — which  would  be,  he 
conceived,  to  put  the  trouble  and  cost  of  daily  digging 
and  delving  upon  somebody  else,  while  they  might  nightly 
turn  such  complete  disturbance  of  the  dust  to  the  account 
of  their  own  private  investigations — and  that,  when  the 
Mounds  were  gone,  and  they  had  worked  those  chances 
for  their  own  joint  benefit  solely,  they  should  then,  and 
not  before,  explode  on  the  minion  and  worm.  But  here 
came  the  conditional  clause,  and  to  this  he  entreated  the 
special  attention  of  his  comrade,  brother,  and  partner. 
It  was  not  to  be  borne  that  the  minion  and  worm  should 
carry  off  any  of  that  property  which  was  now  to  be  re- 


120 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRTEKD. 


garded  as  their  own  propert3^  When  he,  Mr.  Wegg, 
had  seen  the  rainiou  surreptitiously  making  off  with  that 
bottle,  and  its  precious  contents  unknown,  he  had  looked 
upon  him  in  the  light  of  a mere  robber,  and,  as  such, 
would  liave  despoiled  him  of  his  ill-gotten  gain,  but  for 
the  judicious  interference  of  his  comrade,  brother  and 
partner.  Therefore,  the  conditional  clause  he  proposed 
was,  that,  if  the  minion  should  return  in  his  late  sneaking 
manner,  and  if,  being  closely  watched,  he  should  be  found 
to  possess  himself  of  any  thing,  no  matter  what,  the  sharp 
sword  impending  over  his  head  should  be  instantly  shown 
him,  he  should  be  strictly  examined  as  to  what  he  knew 
or  suspected,  should  be  severely  handled  by  them  liis 
masters,  and  should  be  kept  in  a state  of  abject  moral 
bondage  and  slavery  until  the  time  when  they  should  see 
fit  to  permit  him  to  purchase  his  freedom  at  the  price  of 
half  his  possessions.  If,  said  Mr.  Wegg,  by  way  of  per- 
oration, he  had  erred  in  saying  only  Halves  he  trust- 
ed to  his  comrade,  brother,  and  partner  not  to  hesitate  to 
set  him  right,  and  to  reprove  his  Vveakness.  It  might  be 
more  according  to  the  rights  of  things,  to  say  Two-thirds  ; 
it  might  be  more  according  to  the  rights  of  things,  to 
say  Three-fourths.  On  those  points  he  was  ever  open  to 
correction. 

Mr.  Yenns  having  wafted  his  attention  to  this  discourse 
over  three  successive  saucers  of  tea,  signified  his  concur- 
rence in  the  views  advanced.  Inspirited  hereby,  Mr. 
Wegg  extended  his  right  hand,  and  declared  it  to  be  a 
hand  which  never  yet.  Without  entering  into  more 
minute  particulars.  Mr.  Yenus,  sticking  to  his  tea,  briefly 
professed  his  belief,  as  polite  forms  required  of  him, 
that  it  was  a hand  which  never  yet.  But  con- 


CUE  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


121 


tented  himself  with  looking  at  it,  and  did  not  take  it  to 
bis  bosom. 

Brother,’^  said  Wegg,  when  this  happy  understand- 
ing was  established,  ‘‘I  should  like  to  ask  you  some- 
thing. You  remember  the  night  when  I first  looked 
in  here,  and  found  you  floating  your  powerful  mind  in 
tea 

Still  swilling  tea,  Mr.  Yenus  nodded  assent 
'^And  there  you  sit,  SiiV^  pursued  Wegg,  with  an  air 
of  thoughtful  admiration,  as  if  you  had  never  left  off  ! 
There  you  sit,  Sir,  as  if  you  had  an  unlimited  capacity  of 
assimilating  the  flagrant  article  ! There  you  sit,  Sir,  in 
the  midst  of  your  works,  looking  as  if  you’d  been  called 
upon  for  Home,  Sweet  Home,  and  was  obleeging  the 
company  ! 

* A exile  from  home  splendor  dazzles  in  vain, 

0 give  you  your  lowly  Preparations  again, 

Tho  birds  stuffed  so  sweetly  that  can’t  be  expected  to  come  at  your  call, 
Give  you  these  with  the  peace  of  mind  dearer  than  all. 

Home,  Home,  Home,  sweet  Home  !’ 

— Be  it  ever,”  added  Mr.  Wegg  in  prose  as  he  glanced 
about  the  shop,  ever  so  ghastly,  all  things  considered, 
there’s  no  place  like  it.” 

You  said  you’d  like  to  ask  something  ; but  you 
haven’t  asked  it,”  remarked  Yenus,  very  unsympathetic 
in  manner. 

Your  peace  of  mind,”  said  Wegg,  offering  condolence, 
your  peace  of  mind  was  in  a poor  way  that  night.  How's 
it  going  on.  Is  it  looking  np  at  all  ?” 

She  does  not  wish,”  replied  Mr.  Yenus  with  a comi- 
cal mixture  of  indignant  obstinacy  and  tender  melancholy, 


122 


OUK  MUTUAL  FEIEND. 


regard  herself,  nor  yet  to  be  regarded,  in  that  par- 
ticular light.  There^s  no  more  to  be  said.” 

‘^Ah,  dear  me,  dear  me  !’^  exclaimed  Wegg  with  a 
sigh,  but  eyeing  him  while  pretending  to  keep  him  com- 
pany in  eyeing  the  fire,  such  is  Woman  ! And  I re- 
member you  said  that  night,  sitting  there  as  I sat  here — 
said  that  night  when  your  peace  of  mind  was  first  laid 
low,  that  you  had  taken  an  interest  in  these  very  affairs. 
Such  is  coincidence  P 

Her  father,”  rejoined  Venus,  and  then  stopped  to 
swallow  more  tea,  ‘‘  her  father  was  mixed  up  in  them.^’ 
'‘You  didn’t  mention  her  name,  Sir,  I think?”  ob- 
served Wegg,  pensively.  “ ^sTo,  you  didn’t  mention  her 
name  that  night.” 

“ Pleasant  Piderhood.” 

“In — deed!”  cried  Wegg.  “Pleasant  Piderhood. 
There’s  something  moving  in  the  name.  Pleasant.  Dear 
me  ! Seems  to  express  what  she  might  have  been  if  she 
hadn’t  made  that  unpleasant  remark — and  what  she  ain’t 
in  consequence  of  having  made  it.  Would  it  at  all  pour 
balm  into  your  wounds,  Mr.  Venus,  to  inquire  how  you 
came  acquainted  with  her  ?” 

“I  was  down  at  the  water-side,”  said  Venus,  taking 
another  gulp  of  tea  and  mournfully  winking  at  the 
fire — “ looking  for  parrots”— taking  another  gulp  and 
stopping. 

Mr.  Wegg  hinted  to  jog  his  attention  : “You  could 
hardly  have  been  out  parrot-shooting  in  the  British  cli- 
mate, Sir  ?” 

“ No,  no,  no,”  said  Venus,  fretfully.  “ I was  down  at 
the  water-side  looking  for  parrots  brought  hoipe  by  sailors^ 
to  buy  for  stuffing.” 


Otlt  MtfTtfAL  FKlEj^t). 


123 


Aj,  ay,'  ay,  Sir 

—And  looking  for  a nice  pair  of  rattlesnakes,  to  ar- 
ticulate for  a Museum — when  I was  doomed  to  fall  in 
with  her  and  deal  with  her.  It  was  just  at  the  time  of 
that  discovery  in  the  river.  Her  father  had  seen  the  dis- 
covery being  towed  in  the  river.  I made  the  popularity 
of  the  subject  a reason  for  going  back  to  improve  the  ac- 
quaintance, and  I have  never  since  been  the  man  I was. 
My  very  bones  is  rendered  flabby  by  brooding  over  it. 
If  they  oould  be  brought  to  me  loose,  to  sort,  I should 
hardly  have  the  face  to  claim  ^em  as  mine.  To  such  an 
extent  have  I fallen  off  under  it.” 

Mr.  Wegg,  less  interested  than  he  had  been,  glanced  at 
one  particular  shelf  in  the  dark. 

Why  I remember,  Mr.  Venus,”  he  said,  in  a tone  of 
friendly  commiseration  ^‘(for  I remember  every  word  that 
falls  from  you,  Sir),  I remember  that  you  said  that  night, 
you  had  got  up  there — and  then  your  words  was,  ^ Never 
mind.’  ” 

— The  parrot  that  I bought  of  her,”  said  Venus, 
with  a despondent  rise  and  fall  of  his  eyes.  Yes  ; there 
it  lies  on  its  side,  dried  up  ; except  for  its  plumage,  very 
like  myself.  I’ve  never  had  the  heart  to  prepare  it,  and 
I never  shall  have  now.” 

With  a disappointed  face,  Silas  mentally  consigned  this 
parrot  to  regions  more  than  tropical,  and,  seeming  for  the 
tin]e  to  have  lost  his  power  of  assuming  an  interest  in  the 
woes  of  Mr.  Venus,  fell  to  tightening  his  wooden  leg  as  a 
preparation  for  departure  : its  gymnastic  performances  of 
that  evening  having  severely  tried  its  constitution. 

After  Silas  had  left  the  shop,  hat-box  in  hand,  and  had 
left  Mr.  Venus  to  lower  himself  to  oblivion-point  with  the 


lU 


OTTE  MUTUAL  FEIENU^ 


requisite  weight  of  tea,  it  greatly  preyed  on  his  ingenuous 
mind  that  he  had  taken  this  artist  into  partnership  at  all. 
He  bitterly  felt  that  he  had  overreached  himself  in  the 
beginning  by  grasping  at  Venus^s  mere  straws  of  hints, 
now  shown  to  be  worthless  for  his  purpose.  Casting 
about  for  ways  and  means  of  dissolving  the  connection 
without  loss  of  money,  reproaching  himself  for  having 
been  betrayed  into  an  avowal  of  his  secret,  and  compli- 
menting himself  beyond  measure  on  his  purely  accidental 
good-luck,  he  beguiled  the  distance  between  Clerkenwell 
and  the  mansion  of  the  Golden  Dustman. 

For  Silas  Wegg  felt  it  to  be  quite  out  of  the  question  * 
that  he  could  lay  his  head  upon  his  j)illow  in  peace  with- 
Qut  first  hovering  over  Mr.  Boffin^s  house  in  the  superior 
character  of  its  Evil  GeniuSi  Power  (unless  it  be  the 
power  of  intellect  or  virtue)  has  ever  the  greatest  attrac- 
tion for  the  lowest  natures  ; and  the  mere  defiance  of  the 
unconscious  house-front,  with  his  power  to  strip  the  roof 
off  the  inhabiting  family  like  the  roof  of  a house  of  cards, 
was  a treat  which  had  a charm  for  Silas  Wegg. 

As  he  hovered  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  exult- 
ing, the  carriage  drove  up. 

There’ll  shortly  be  an  end  of  said  Wegg, 

threatening  it  with  the  hat-box.  Your  varnish  is 
fading.” 

Mrs.  Boffin  descended  and  went  in. 

“ Look  out  for  a fall,  my  Lady  Dustwoman,”  said 
Wegg. 

Bella  lightly  descended,  and  ran  in  after  her. 

“ How  brisk  we  are  !”  said  Wegg.  You  won’t  run 
so  gayly  to  your  old  shabby  home,  my  girl.  You’ll  have 
to  go  there,  though.” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


125 


A little  while,  and  the  Secretary  came  out. 

I was  passed  over  for  you,^^  said  Wegg.  “ But  you 
had  better  provide  yourself  with  another  situation,  young 
man.^^ 

Mr.  Boffin^s  shadow  passed  upon  the  blinds  of  three 
large  windows  as  he  trotted  down  the  room,  and  passed 
again  as  he  went  back. 

'^Yoop!’^  cried  Wegg.  ^‘YouVe  there,  are  you? 
Where’s  the  bottle  ? You  would  give  your  bottle  for  my 
box,  Dustman  !” 

Having  now  composed  his  mind  for  slumber,  he  turned 
homeward.  Such  was  the  greed  of  the  fellow,  that  his 
mind  had  shot  beyond  halves,  two-thirds,  three-fourths, 
and  gone  straight  to  spoliation  of  the  whole.  “ Though 
that  wouldn’t  quite  do,”  he  considered,  growing  cooler  as 
he  got  away.  That’s  what  would  happen  to  him  if  he 
didn’t  buy  us  up.  We  should  get  nothing  by  that.” 

We  so  judge  others  by  ourselves,  that  it  had  never 
come  into  his  head  before  that  he  might  not  buy  us  up, 
and  might  prove  honest,  and  prefer  to  be  poor.  It 
caused  him  a slight  tremor  as  it  passed  ; but  a very  slight 
one,  for  the  idle  thought  was  gone  directly. 

He’s  grown  too  fond  of  money  for  that,”  said  Wegg  ; 

he’s  grown  too  fond  of  money.”  The  burden  fell  into  a 
strain  or  tune  as  he  stumped  along  the  pavements.  All 
the  way  home  he  stumped  it  out  of  the  rattling  streets, 
piano  with  his  own  foot,  and  forte  with  his  wooden  leg. 
“ He’s  GROWN  too  FOND  of  MONEY  for  THAT,  he’s  GROWN  tOO 
FOND  of  MONEY.” 

Even  next  day  Silas  soothed  himself  with  this  melo- 
dious strain,  when  he  was  called  out  of  bed  at  daybreak 
to  set  open  the  yard-gate  and  admit  the  train  of  carts  and 


126 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


horses  that  came  to  carry  olf  the  little  Mound.  And  all 
day  long,  as  he  kept  unwinking  watch  on  the  slow  pro- 
cess which  promised  to  protract  itself  through  many  days 
and  weeks,  whenever  (to  save  himself  from  being  choked 
with  dust)  he  patrolled  a little  cinderous  beat  he  estab- 
lished for  the  purpose,  without  taking  his  eyes  from  the 
diggers,  he  still  stumped  to  the  tune  : He’s  grown  too 

FOND  of  MONEY  for  THAT,  lie’s  GROWN  tOO  FOND  of  MONEY.” 


OUS  MUTUAL  FEIEND. 


127 


CHAPTER  YIIL 

THE  END  OF  A LONG  JOURNEY. 

The  train  of  carts  and  horses  came  and  went  all  day 
from  dawn  to  nightfall,  making  little  or  no  daily  impres- 
sion on  the  heap  of  ashes,  though,  as  the  days  passed  on, 
the  heap  was  seen  to  be  slowly  melting.  My  lords  and 
gentlemen  and  honorable  boards,  when  you  in  the  course 
of  your  dust-shoveling  and  cinder-raking  have  piled  up  a 
mountain  of  pretentious  failure,  you  must  off  wdth  your 
honorable  coats  for  the  removal  of  it,  and  fall  to  the 
woi’k  with  the  power  of  all  the  queen^s  horses  and  ail 
the  queen’s  men,  or  it  will  come  rushing  down  and  bury 
us  alive. 

Yes,  verily,  my  lords  and  gentlemen  and  honorable 
boards,  adapting  your  Catechism  to  the  occasion,  and  by 
God’s  help  so  you  must.  For  when  we  have  got  things 
to  the  pass  that  with  an  enormous  treasure  at  disposal  to 
relieve  the  poor,  the  best  of  the  poor  detest  our  mercies, 
hide  their  heads  from  us,  and  shame  us  by  starving  to' 
death  in  the  midst  of  us,  it  is  a pass  impossible  of  pros- 
perity, impossible  of  continuance.  It  may  not  be  so  wTit- 
ten  in  the  Gospel  according  to  Podsnappery  ; you  may 
not  ‘^find  these  w^ords”  for  the  text  of  a sermon,  in  the 
Returns  of  the  Board  of  Trade  ; but  they  have  been  the 
truth  since  the  foundations  of  the  universe  were  laid,  and 


128 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


they  will  be  the  truth  until  the  foundations  of  the  uni- 
verse are  shaken  by  the  Builder.  This  boastful  handi- 
work of  ours,  v/hich  fails  in  its  terrors  for  the  professional 
pauper,  the  sturdy  breaker  of  windows  and  the  rampant 
tearer  of  clothes,  strikes  with  a cruel  and  a wicked  stab 
at  the  stricken  sufferer,  and  is  a horror  to  the  deserving 
and  unfortunate.  We  must  mend  it,  lords  and  gentlemen 
and  honorable  boards,  or  in  its  own  evil  hour  it  will  mar 
every  one  of  us. 

Old  Betty  Higden  fared  upon  her  pilgrimage  as  many 
ruggedly  honest  creatures,  women  and  men,  fare  on  their 
toiling  way  along  the  roads  of  life.  Patiently  to  earn  a 
spare  bare  living,  and  quietly  to  die,  untouched  by  work- 
house  hands — this  was  her  highest  sublunary  hope. 

Nothing  had  been  heard  of  her  at  Mr.  Boffiids  house 
since  she  trudged  off.  The  weather  had  been  haixl  and 
the  roads  had  been  bad,  and  her  spirit  was  up,  A less 
stanch  spirit  might  have  been  subdued  by  such  adverse 
influences  ; but  the  loan  for  her  little  outfit  was  in  no 
part  repaid,  and  it  had  gone  worse  with  her  than  she  had 
foreseen,  and  she  was  put  upon  proving  her  case  and 
inaintaing  her  independence. 

Faithful  soul ! when  she  had  spoken  to  the  Secretary 
of  that  deadness  that  steals  over  me  at  times,^^  her  for 
titude  had  made  too  little  of  it.  Oftener  and  ever  oftener, 
it  came  stealing  over  her  ; darker  and  ever  darker,  like 
the  shadow  of  advancing  Death.  That  the  shadow 
should  be  deep  as  it  came  on,  like  the  shadow  of  an  ac- 
tual presence,  was  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of  the 
physical  world,  for  all  the  Light  that  shone  on  Betty 
Iligden  lay  beyond  death. 

The  poor  old  creature  had  taken  the  upward  course  of 


OTdTR  MUTUAL  FBTEiTD. 


129 


the  river  Thames  as  her  general  track  ; it  was  the  track 
in  which  her  last  home  lay,  and  of  which  she  had  last  had 
local  love  and  knowledge.  She  had  hovered  for  a little 
while  ill  the  near  neighborhood  of  her  abandoned  dwell- 
ing, and  had  sold,  and  knitted  and  sold,  and  gone  on.  In 
the  pleasant  towns  of  Chertsey,  Walton,  Kingston,  and 
Staines,  her  figure  came  to  be  quite  well  known  for  some 
short  weeks,  and  then  again  passed  on. 

She  would  take  her  stand  in  market-places,  where  there 
were  such  things,  on  market-days  ; at  other  times,  in  the 
busiest  (that  was  seldom  very  busy)  portion  of  the  little 
quiet  High  street  ; and  still  other  times  she  would  ex- 
plore the  outlying  roads  for  great  houses,  and  would  ask 
leave  at  the  Lodge  to  pass  in  with  her  basket,  and  would 
not  often  get  it.  Bat  ladies  in  carriages  would  frequently 
make  purchases  from  her  trifling  stock,  and  were  usually 
pleased  with  her  bright  eyes  and  her  hopeful  speech.  In 
these  and  her  clean  dress  originated  a fable  that  she  was 
well-to-do  ill  the  world  ; one  might  say,  for  her  station, 
rich.  As  making  a comfortable  provision  for  its  subject 
which  costs  nobody  anything,  this  class  of  fable  has  long 
been  popular. 

In  those  pleasant  little  towns  on  Thames  you  may  hear 
the  fall  of  the  water  over  the  weirs,  or  even,  in  still  wea- 
ther, the  rustle  of  the  rushes  ; and  from  the  bridge  you 
may  see  the  young  river,  dimpled  like  a young  child,  play- 
fully gliding  away  among  the  trees,  unpolluted  by  the  de- 
filements that  lie  in  wait  for  it  on  its  course,  and  as  yet 
out  of  hearing  of  the  deep  summons  of  the  sea.  It  were 
too  much  to  pretend  that  Betty  Higden  made  out  such 
thoughts  ; no  ; but  she  heard  the  tender  river  whispering 
to  many  like  herself,  Come  to  me,  come  to  me  ! Wheu 


130 


OVR  MUTUAL  FEIEND, 


the  cruel  shame  and  terror  you  have  so  long  fled  from 
most  beset  you,  come  to  me  1 I am  the  Relieving  Officer 
appointed  by  eternal  ordinance  to  do  my  work  ; I am  not 
held  in  estimation  according  as  I shirk  it.  My  breast  is 
softer  than  the  pauper-nurse’s  ; death  in  my  arms  is 
peacefuller  than  among  the  pauper-wards.  Come  to 
me  !” 

There  was  abundant  place  for  gentler  fancies  too,  In 
her  untutored  mind.  Those  gentlefolks  and  their  children 
inside  those  fine  houses,  could  they  think,  as  they  looked 
out  at  her,  what  it  was  to  be  really  hungry,  really  cold  ? 
Did  they  feel  any  of  the  wonder  about  her  that  she  felt 
about  them  ? Bless  the  dear  laughing  children  ! If 
they  could  have  seen  sick  Johnny  in  her  arms  would  they 
have  cried  for  pity  ? If  they  could  have  seen  dead  Johnny 
on  that  little  bed  would  they  have  understood  it  ? Bless 
the  dear  children,  for  his  sake,  any  how  I So  with  the 
humbler  houses  in  the  little  street,  the  inner  fire-light 
shining  on  the  panes  as  the  outer  twilight  darkened. 
When  the  families  gathered  indoors  there,  for  the  night, 
it  was  only  a foolish  fancy  to  feel  as  if  it  were  a little 
hard  in  them  to  close  the  shutter  and  blacken  the  flame. 
So  with  the  lighted  shops,  and  speculations  whether  their' 
masters  and  mistresses  taking  tea  in  a perspective  of  back- 
parlor — not  so  far  within  but  that  the  flavor  of  tea  and 
toast  came  out,  mingled  with  the  glow  of  light,  into  the 
street — ate  or  drank  or  wore  what  they  sold,  with  the 
greater  relish  because  they  dealt  in  it.  So  with  the 
church-yard  on  a branch  of  the  solitary  way  to  the  night’s 
sleeping-place.  Ah  me  1 The  dead  and  I seem  to  have 
it  pretty  much  to  ourselves  in  the  dark  and  in  this  wea- 
ther 1 But  so  much  the  better  for  all  who  are  warmly 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


131 


housed  at  liorae,^^  The  poor  soul  envied  no  one  in  bitter- 
ness, and  grudged  no  one  any  thing. 

But  the  old  abhorrence  grew  stronger  on  her  as  she 
grew  weaker,  and  it  found  more  sustaining  food  than  she 
did  in  her  wanderings.  Now,  she  would  light  upon  the 
sliameful  spectacle  of  some  desolate  creature — or  some 
wretched  ragged  groups  of  either  sex,  or  of  both  sexes, 
with  children  among  them  huddled  together  like  the 
smaller  vermin  for  a little  warmth — lingering  and  linger- 
ing on  a doorstep,  while  the  appointed  evader  of  the 
public  trust  did  his  dirty  office  of  trying  to  weary  them 
out  and  so  get  rid  of  them.  Now,  she  would  light  upon 
some  poor  decent  person,  like  herself,  going  a foot  on  a 
pilgrimage  of  many  weary  miles  to  sec  some  worn-out 
relative  or  friend  who  had  been  charitably  clutched  off  to 
a great  blank  barren  Union  House,  as  far  from  old  home 
as  the  County  Jail  (the  remoteness  of  which  is  always  its 
worst  punishment  for  small  rural  offenders),  and  in  its 
dietary,  and  in  its  lodging,  and  in  its  tending  of  the  sick, 
a much  more  penal  establishment.  Sometimes  she  would 
hear  a newspaper  read  out,  and  would  learn  how  the 
Registrar-General  cast  up  the  units  that  had  within  the 
last  week  died  of  want  and  of  exposu^  to  the  weather  : 
for  which  that  Recording  Angel  seemed  to  have  a regular 
fixed  place  in  his  sum,  as  if  they  were  its  half-pence.  All 
such  things  she  would  hear  discussed,  as  we,  my  lords  and 
gentlemen  and  honorable  boards,  in  our  unapproachable 
magnificence  never  hear  them,  and  from  all  such  things 
she  would  fly  with  the  wings  of  raging  Despair. 

This  is  not  to  be  received  as  a figure  of  speech.  Old 
Betty  Higden  hov/ever  tired,  however  foot-sore,  would 
start  up  and  be  driven  away  by  her  awakened  horror  of 


132 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


falling  into  the  liaiids  of  Charity.  It  is  a remarkable 
Christian  improvement,  to  have  made  a pursuing  Fury  of 
the  Good  Samaritan  ; ,but  it  was  so  in  this  case,  and  it  is 
a type  of  many,  many,  many. 

Two  incidents  united  to  intensify  the  old  unreasoning 
abliorrence — granted  in  a previous  place  to  be  unreason- 
ing, because  the  people  always  are  unreasoning,  and  in- 
variably jnake  a point  of  producing  all  their  smoke  with- 
out fire. 

One  day  she  was  sitting  in  a market-place  on  a bench 
outside  an  inn,  with  her  little  wares  for  sale,  when  the 
deadness  that  she  strove  against  came  over  her  so  heavily 
that  the  scene  departed  from  before  her  eyes  ; when  it 
returned,  she  found  herself  on  the  ground,  her  head  sup- 
ported by  some  good-natured  market-women,  and  a little 
crowd  about  her. 

“Are  you  better  novr,  mother?^’  asked  one  of  the 
women.  “ Do  you  think  you  can  do  nicely  now 

“Have  I been  ill  then  asked  old  Betty. 

“ You  have  had  a faint  like,”  was  tli3  answer,  “or  a 
fit.  It  aiift  that  youT’e  been  a-struggling,  mother,  but 
youVe  been  stiff  and  numbed.” 

“ Ah  !”  said  Betty,  recovering  her  memory.  “ It’s  the 
numbness.  Yes.  It  comes  over  me  at  times.” 

“ Was  it  gone  ?”  the  woman  asked  lier. 

“It’s  gone  now,”  said  Betty.  “I  shall  be  stronger 
tlian  I was  afore.  Many  thanks  to  ye,  my  dears,  and 
when  you  come  to  be  as  old  as  I am,  may  others  do  as 
much  for  you  !” 

They  assisted  her  to  rise,  but  she  could  not  stand  yet, 
and  they  supported  her  when  she  sat  down  again  upon 
the  bench. 


OVU  MUTUAL  FRTLXn. 


133 


“ My  heacVs  a bit  light,  and  ray  feet  are  a bit  heavy,’’ 
said  old  Betty,  leaning  her  face  drowsily  on  the  breast  of 
the  woman  who  had  spoken  before.  They’ll  both 
come  nat’ral  in  a minute.  There’s  nothing  more  the 
matter.” 

Ask  her,”  said  some  farmers  standing  by,  who  had 
come  out  from  tlieir  market-dinner,  “ wdio  belongs  to  her.” 

Are  there  any  folks  belonging  to  you,  mother  ?”  said 
the  woman. 

Yes,  sure,”  answered  Betty.  I heerd  the  gentleman 
say  it,  but  I couldn’t  answer  quick  enough.  There’s 
plenty  belonging  to  me.  Don’t  ye  fear  for  me,  my 
dear.” 

“ But  are  any  of  ’em  near  here  ?”  said  the  men’s  voi- 
ces ; the  women’s  voices  chiming  in  when  it  was  said,  and 
prolonging  the  strain. 

“ Q.uite  near  enough,”  said  Betty,  rousing  herself. 

Don’t  ye  be  afeard  for  me,  neighbors.” 

‘‘But  you  are  not  fit  to  travel.  Where  are  yooi 
going  ?”  was  the  next  compassionate  chorus  she  heard. 

“ I’m  agoing  to  London  when  I’ve  sold  out  all,”  said 
Betty,  rising  with  difficulty.  “ I’ve  right  good  friends  in 
London.  I want  for  nothing.  I shall  come  to  no  harm. 
Thankye.  Don’t  be  afeared  for  me.” 

A well-meaning  by-stander,  yellowdegginged  and  pur- 
ple-faced, said  hoarsely  over  his  reel  comforter,  as  she 
rose  to  her  feet,  that  slie  “ oughtn’t  to  be  let  to  go.” 

“ For  the  Lord’s  love  don’t  meddle  with  me  !”  cried 
old  Betty,  all  her  fears  crowding  on  her.  “I  am  quite 
well  now,  and  I must  go  this  minute.” 

She  caught  up  her  basket  as  she  spoke  and  was  making 
an  unsteady  rush  away  from  them,  when  the  same  by- 


m 


omi  MUTCAI.  FinKND, 


stander  checked  her  v/ith  his  liaiid  on  her  sleeve,  and 
urged  her  to  come  with  him  and  see  the  parish  doctor. 
Strengthening  herself  by  the  utmost  exercise  of  her  reso- 
lution, the  poor  trembiing  creature  sliook  him  off,  almost 
fiercely,  and  took  to  flight.  Nor  did  she*  feel  safe  until 
she  .had  set  a mile  or  two  of  by-road  between  herself  and 
the  market-place,  and  had  crept  into  a copse,  like  a hunted 
animal,  to  hide  and  recover  breath.  Not  until  then  for 
the  first  time  did  she  venture  to  recall  how  she  had  looked 
over  her  shoulder  before  turning  out  of  the  town,  and  had 
seen  the  sign  of  the  White  Lion  hanging  across  the  road, 
and  the  fluttering  market  booths,  and  the  old  gray  church, 
and  the  little  crowd  gazing  after  her  but  not  attempting 
to  follow  her. 

The  second  frightening  incident  was  this.  She  had 
been  again  as  bad,  and  had  been  for  some  days  better, 
and  was  traveling  along  by  a part  of  the  road  where  it 
touched  the  river,  and  in  wet  seasons  v/as  so  often  over-  * 
ijowed  by  it  that  there  were  tall  white  posts  set  up  to 
mark  the  v/ay.  A barge  was  being  towed  to’ward  hei* 
and  she  sat  down  on  the  bank  to  rest  and  watch  it.  As 
the  tow-rope  was  slackened  by  a turn  of  the  stream  and 
dipped  into  the  water,  such  a confusion  stole  into  her 
mind  that  she  thought  she  saw  the  forms  of  her  dead 
children  and  dead  grandchildren  peopling  the  barge,  and 
waving  their  hands  to  her  in  solemn  measure  ; then,  as 
the  rope  tightened  and  came  up,  dropping  diamonds,  it 
seemed  to  vibrate  into  two  parallel  ropes  and  strike  her, 
with  a twang,  though  it  was  far  off.  When  she  looked 
again,  there  was  no  barge,  no  river,  no  daylight,  and  a 
man  whom  she  had  never  before  seen  held  a candle  close 
to  her  face. 


OUB  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


135 


**  ISTow,  Missus,”  said  he  ; **  where  did  you  come  from 
and  where  are  you  going  to  ?” 

The  poor  soul  confusedly  ashed  the  counter-question 
where  she  was  ? 

am  the  Lock,”  said  the  man. 

“ The  Lock  ?” 

I am  Deputy  Lock,  on  job,  and  this  is  the  Lock- 
house.  (Lock  or  Deputy  Lock,  it’s  all  one,  while  the 
t’other  man’s  in  the  hospital.)  What’s  your  Parish  ?” 
Parish  I”  She  was  up  from  the  truckle-bed  directly, 
wildly  feeling  about  her  for  her  basket,  and  gazing  at  him 
in  affright. 

You’ll  be  asked  the  question  down  town,”  said  the 
man.  They  won’t  let  “you  be  more  than  a Casual  there. 
They’ll  pass  you  on  to  your  settlement.  Missis,  with  all 
speed.  You’re  not  in  a state  to  be  let  come  upon  strange 
parishes  ’cepting  as  a Casual.” 

“ ’Twas  the  deadness  again  I”  murmured  Betty  Hig* 
den,  with  her  hand  to  her  head. 

“ It  was  the  deadness,  there’s  not  a doubt  about  it,” 
returned  the  man.  I should  have  thought  the  deadness 
was  a mild  word  for  it,  if  it  had  been  named  to  me 
when  we  brought  you  in.  Have  you  got  any  friends, 
Missis  ?” 

“ The  best  of  friends.  Master.” 

I should  recommend  your  looking  ’em  up  if  you  con- 
sider ’em  game  to  do  anything  for  you,”  said  the  Deputy 
Lock-  “ Have  you  got  any  money  ?” 

“Just  a morsel  of  money,  Sir.” 

“ Do  you  want  to  keep  it  ?” 

“ Sure  I do  1” 

“ M^ll,  you  know,”  said  the  Deputy  Lock,  shrugging 


136 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEOT). 


his  shoulders  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  shaking 
his  head  in  a sulty  ominous  manner,  the  parish  author- 
ities down  town  will  have  it  out  of  you,  if  you  go  on,  you 
may  take  your  Alfred  David/^ 

Then  Vll  not  go  on.’^ 

They'll  make  you  pay,  as  fur  as  your  money  will  go,’' 
pursued  the  Deputy,  “ for  your  relief  as  a Casual,  and  for 
your  being  passed  to  your  Parish.” 

Thank  ye  kindly.  Master,  for  your  warning,  thank 
ye  for  your  shelter,  and  goodmight.” 

Stop  a bit,”  said  the  Deputy,  striking  in  between  her 
and  the  door.  Why  are  you  all  of  a shake,  and  what’s 
your  hurry,  Alissis  ?” 

Oh,  Master,  Master,”  returned  Betty  Higden,  “ Pve 
fought  against  the  Parish  and  fled  from  it,  all  my  life, 
and  I want  to  die  free  of  it  I” 

‘‘I  don’t  know,”  said  the  Deputy,  with  deliberation, 
as  I ought  to  let  you  go.  I’m  a honest  man  as  gets  my 
living  by  the  sweat  of  my  brow,  and  I may  fall  into  trou- 
ble by  letting  you  go.  I’ve  fell  into  trouble  afore  now, 
by  George,  and  I know  what  it  is,  and  it’s  made  me  care- 
ful. You  might  be  took  with  your  deadness  again,  half 
a mile  oft* — or  half  of  half  a quarter,  for  the  matter  of  ^ 
that — and  then  it  would  be  asked.  Why  did  that  there 
honest  Deputy  Lock  let  her  go,  instead  of  putting  her 
safe  with  the  Parish  ? That’s  what  a man  of  his  charac- 
ter ought  to  have  done,  it  would  be  argueyfled,”  said  the 
Deputy  Lock,  cunningly  harping  on  the  strong  string  of 
lier  terror  ; ^‘he  ought  to  have  handed  her  over  safe  to 
the  Parish.  That  was  to  be  expected  of  a man  of 
his  merits.” 

As  he  stood  in  the  doorw'ay  the  poor  old  c^’eworn, 


OHR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


137 


wayworn  woman  burst  into  tears,  and  clasped  lier  hands, 
as  if  in  a very  agony  she  prayed  to  him. 

As  I^'e  told  you,  Master,  I’ve  the  best  of  friends. 
This  letter  will  show  how  true  I spoke,  and  they  will  be 
thankful  for  me.’^ 

The  Deputy  Lock  opened  the  letter  with  a grave 
face,  which  underwent  no  change  as  he  eyed  its  con- 
tents. But  it  might  have  done,  if  he  could  have  read 
them. 

“ What  amount  of  small  change,  Missis,’^  he  said,  with 
an  abstracted  air,  after  a little  meditation,  might  you 
call  a morsel  of  money  V' 

Hurriedly  emptying  her  pocket,  old  Betty  lay  down  on 
the  table  a shilling,  and  two  sixpenny  pieces,  and  a 
few  pence. 

If  I was  to  let  you  go  instead  of  handing  you  over 
safe  to  the  Parish,”  said  the  Deputy,  counting  the  money 
with  his  eyes,  might  it  be  your  own  free  wish  to  leave 
that  there  behind  you 

‘^Take  it,  Master,  take  it,  and  welcome  and  thank- 
ful 1” 

“Pm  a man,”  said  the  Deputy,  giving  her  back  the 
letter,  and  pocketing  the  coins,  one  by  one,  “as  earns  his 
living  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow  here  he  drew  his  sleeve 
across  his  forehead,  as  if  this  particular  portion  of  his 
humble  gains  were  the  result  of  sheer  hard  labor,  and  vir- 
tuous industry  ; “and  I wonT  stand  in  your  way.  Go 
where  you  like.” 

She  was  gone  out  of  the  Lock-house  as  soon  as  he  gave 
her  this  permission,  and  her  tottering  steps  were  on  the 
road  again.  But,  afraid  to  go  back  and  afraid  to  go  for- 
ward ; seeing  what  she  tied  from,  in  the  sky-glare  of  the 


138 


OVS>  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


lights  of  the  little  town  before  her,  and  leaving  a con- 
fased  horror  of  it  every  where  behind  her,  as  if  she  had 
escaped  it  in  every  stone  of  every  market-] )laee  ; she 
struck  off  by  side  ways,  among  which  she  got  bewildered 
and  lost.  That  night  she  took  refuge  from  the  Samari- 
tan in  his  latest  accredited  form,  under  a farmer^s  rick  ; 
and  if — worth  thinking  of,  perhaps,  my  fellow-Christians 
— the  Samaritan  had  in  the  lonely  night  “ passed  by  on 
the  other  side,’^  she  would  have  most  devoutly  thanked 
High  Heaven  for  her  escape  from  him. 

The  morning  found  her  afoot  again,  but  fast  declining 
as  to  the  clearness  of  her  thoughts,  though  not  as  to  the 
steadiness  of  her  purpose.  Comprehending  that  her 
strength  was  quitting  her,  and  that  the  struggle  of  her 
life  was  almost  ended,  she  eoukl  neitlier  reason  out  the 
means  of  getting  back  to  her  protectors,  nor  even  form 
the  idea.  The  overmastering  dread,  and  the  proud  stub- 
born resolution  it  engendered  in  her  to  die  undegraded, 
were  the  two  distinct  impressions  left  in  her  failing  mind. 
Supported  only  by  a sense  that  she  was  bent  on  conquer- 
ing in  her  life-long  fight,  she  went  on. 

The  time  was  come  now  when  the  wants  of  this  little 
life  were  passing  away  from  her.  She  could  not  have 
swallowed  food  though  a table  had  been  spread  for  her 
in  the  next  field.  The  day  was  cold  and  wet,  but  she 
scarcely  knew  it.  She  crept  on,  poor  soul,  like  a crim- 
inal afraid  of  being  taken,  and  felt  little  beyond  the  ter- 
ror of  falling  down  while  it  was  yet  daylight,  and  being 
found  alive.  She  had  no  fear  that  she  would  live  through 
another'  night. 

Sewn  in  the  breast  of  her  gown,  the  money  to  pay  for 
her  burial  was  still  intact.  If  she  could  wear  through  the 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


139 


day,  and  then  lie  down  to  die  under  cover  of  the  dark- 
ness, she  would  die  independent.  If  she  were  captured 
previously,  the  money  would  be  taken  from  her  as  a pau- 
per who  had  no  right  to  it,  and  she  would  be  carried  to 
the  accursed  work-house.  Gaining  her  end,  the  letter 
would  be  found  in  her  breast,  along  with  the  money,  and 
the  gentlefolks  would  say  when  it  was  given  back  to 
them,  She  prized  it,  did  old  Betty  Higden  ; she  was 
true  to  it ; and  while  she  lived  she  would  never  let  it  be 
disgraced  by  falling  into  the  hands  of  those  that  she  held 
in  horror.'^  Most  illogical,  inconsequential,  and  light- 
headed, this  ; but  travelers  in  the  valley  of  theMiadow  of 
death  are  apt  to  be  light-headed  ; and  worn-out  low  peo- 
ple of  low  estate  have  a trick  of  reasoning  as  indifferently 
as  they  live,  and  doubtless  would  appreciate  our  Poor 
Law  more  philosophically  on  an  income  of  ten  thousand 
a year. 

So,  keeping  to  by-ways,  and  shunning  human  approach, 
this  troublesome  old  woman  hid  herself,  and  fared  on  all 
through  the  dreary  day.  Yet  so  unlike  was  she  to  vag- 
rant hiders  in  general  that  sometimes,  as  the  day  ad- 
vanced, there  was  a bright  fire  in  her  eyes,  and  a quicker 
beating  at  her  feeble  heart,  as  though  she  said  exultingly. 
The  Lord  will  see  me  through  it 

By  what  visionary  hands  she  was  led  along  upon  that 
journey  of  escape  from  the  Samaritan  ; by  what  voices, 
hushed  in  the  grave,  she  seemed  to  be  addressed  ; how 
she  fancied  the  dead  child  in  her  arms  again,  and  times 
innumerable  adjusted  her  shawl  to  keep  it  warm  ; what 
infinite  variety  of  forms  of  tower  and  roof  and  steeple  the 
trees  took  ; how  many  furious  horsemen  rode  at  her,  cry- 
ing, '‘There  she  goes  ! Stop  ! Stop,  Betty  Higden  1^^ 


140 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRiaND, 


and  melted  away  as  they  came  close  ; be  these  things  left 
untold.  Faring  on  and  hiding,  hiding  and  faring  on,  the 
poor  harmless  creature,  as  though  she  were  a Murderess, 
and  the  whole  country  were  up  after  her,  wore  out  the 
day  and  gained  the  night. 

Water-meadows,  or  such  like,”  she  had  sometimes 
murmured,  on  the  day^s  pilgrimage,  when  she  had  raised 
her  head  and  taken  any  note  of  the  real  objects  about 
her.  There  now  arose  in  the  darkness  a great  building, 
full  of  lighted  windows.  Smoke  was  issuing  from  a high 
chimney  in  the  rear  of  it,  and  there  was  the  sound  of  a 
water-wh%el  at  the  side.  Between  her  and  the  building 
lay  a piece  of  Vv^ater,  in  which  the  lighted  windows  were 
reflected,  and  on  its  nearest  margin  was  a plantation  of 
trees.  I humbly  thank  the  Power  and  the  Glory,” 
said  Betty  Higden,  holding  up  her  withered  hands,  that 
I have  come  to  my  journey’s  end  !” 

She  crept  among  the  trees  to  the  trunk  of, a tree 
whence  she  could  see,  beyond  some  intervening  trees 
and  branches,  tlie  lighted  windows,  both  in  their  reality 
and  their  reflection  in  the  water.  She  placed  her  orderly 
little  basket  at  her  side,  and  sank  upon  the  ground,  sup- 
porting herself  against  the  tree.  It  brought  to  her  mind 
the  foot  of  the  Cross,  and  she  committed  herself  to  him 
who  died  upon  it.  Her  strength  held  out  to  enable  her 
to  arrange  the  letter  in  her  breast,  so  as  that  it  could  be 
seen  that  she  had  a paper  there.  It  had  held  out  for  this 
and  it  departed  when  this  was  done.  ' 

“ I am  safe  here,”  was  her  last  benumbed  thought 
When  I am  found  dead  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross  it  wil 
be  by  some  of  my  own  sort ; some  of  the  working  people 
who  work  among  the  lights  yonder.  I can  not  see  the 


OUE  MUTUAL  FEIEKD. 


141 


lighted  windows  now,  but  they  are  there.  I am  thankful 
for  all  !” 

^ ^ ♦ 

The  darkness  gone,  and  a face  bending  down* 

“ It  can  not  be  the  boofer  lady 

I donT  understand  what  you  say.  Let  me  wet  your 
lips  again  v/ith  this  brandy.  I have  been  away  to  fetch 
it.  Did  you  think  that  I was  long  gone 

It  is  as  the  face  of  a woman  shaded  by  a quantity  of 
rich  dark  hair.  It  is  the  earnest  face  of  a woman  who  is 
young  and  handsome.  But  all  is  over  with  me  on  earth, 
and  this  must  be  an  Angel. 

Have  I been  long  dead 

‘‘  I don’t  understand  what  you  say.  Let  me  wet  your 
lips  again.  I hurried  a^  I could,  and  brought  no  one 
back  with  me,  lest  you  should  die  of  the  shock  of  stran- 
gers.’’ 

Am  I not  dead  ?” 

I can  not  understand  what  you  say.  Your  voice  is 
so  low  and  broken  that  I can  not  hear  you.  Do  you 
hear  me  ?” 

^^Yes.” 

Do  you  mean  yes  ?” 

Yes.” 

I was  coming  from  my  work  just  now,  along  the  path 
outside  ( I was  up  with  the  night  hands  last  night),  and 
I heard  a groan,  and  found  you  lying  here.”  * 

What  work,  deary  ?” 

Did  you  ask  what  work  ? At  the  paper-mill.” 

“ Where  is  it  ?” 

Your  face  is  turned  up  to  the  sky,  and  you  can’t  see 


142 


otJli  SftJi’tfAt  PUimt). 


it  It  is  close  by<  You  can  see  my  face  here  between 
you  and  the  sky 
Yes.'^ 

Pare  I lift  you 
Not  yet.” 

Not  even  lift  your  head  to  get  it  on  my  arm  ? I will 
do  it  by  very  gentle  degrees.  You  shall  hardly  feel  it.’^ 
Not  yet.  Paper.  Letter.” 

**  This  paper  in  your  breast  ?” 

Bless  ye  !” 

Let  me  wet  yoitr  lips  again.  Am  I to  open  it  ? 
To  read  it  ?” 

Bless  ye  !” 

Bhe  reads  it  with  surprise^  and  looks  down  with  a new 
expression  and  an  added  interest  on  the  motionless  face 
she  kneels  beside.  ^ 

‘‘  I know  these  names.  I have  heard  them  often.” 
Will  you  send  it,  my  dear  ?” 

I cannot  understand  you.  Let  me  Wet  your  lips 
again,  and  your  forehead.  There.  O poor  thing,  poor 
thing  !”  These  words  through  her  fast-dropping  tears. 

What  Avas  it  that  you  asked  me  ? Wait  till  I bring 
my  ear  quite  close.” 

Will  you  send  it,  my  dear  ?” 

Will  I send  it  to  the  writers  ? Is  that  yonr  wish  ? 
Yes,  certainly.” 

Youdl  not  give  it  up  to  any  one  but  them  ?” 

*^No”  - 

‘‘  As  you  must  grow  old  in  time,  and  come  to  your 
dying  hour,  my  dear,  youdl  not  give  it  up  to  any  one  but 
them  ?” 

No.  Most  solemnly.” 


OUK  MUTUAL  FRIE5TD. 


14S 


'•Never  to  the  Parish  with  a convulsed  struggle. 

''No.  Most  solemnly.” 

" Nor  let  the  Parish  touch  me,,  nor  yet  so  much  as  looh 
at  me  ?”  with  another  struggle. 

"No.  Faithfully.” 

A look  of  thankfulness  and  triumph  lights  the  worn 
old  face.  The  eyes,  which  have  been  darkly  fixed  upon 
the  sky,  turn  with  meaning  in  them  toward  the  compas- 
sionate face  from  which  the  tears  are  dropping,  and  a 
smile  is  on  the  aged  lips  as  they  ask  : 

" What  is  your  name,  my  dear 

" My  name  is  Lizzie  Hexam  ” 

" I must  be  sore  disfigured.  Are  you  afraid  to  kiss 
me  ?” 

The  answer  is,  the  ready  pressure  of  her  lips  upon  the' 
cold  but  smiling  mouth. 

" Bless  ye  I Tfow  lift  me,  my  love.” 

Lizzie  Hexam  very  softly  raised  the  weather-stained 
gray  head  and  lifted  her  as  high  as  Heaven. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


lU 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SOMEBODY  BECOMES  THE  SUBJECT  OF  A PREDICTION, 

“‘We  give  thee  hearty  thanks  for  that  it  hath 

PLEASED  THEE  TO  DELIVER  THIS  OUR  SISTER  OUT  OF  THE  MIS- 
ERIES OF  THIS  SINFUL  WORLD.’”  So  read  the  Reverend 
Frank  Milvey  in  a not  untroubled  voice,  for  his  heart 
misgave  him  that  all  was  not  quite  right  between  us  and 
our  sister — or  say  our  sister-in-Law — Poor  Law — and 
that  we  sometimes  read  these  words  in  an  awful  manner 
over  our  Sister  and  our  Brother  too. 

y 

And  Sloppy — on  whom  the  brave  deceased  had  never 
turned  her  back  until  she  ran  away  from  him,  knowing 
that  otherwise  he  would  not  be  separated  from  her — 
Sloppy  could  not  in  Ins  conscience  as  yet  find  the  hearty 
thanks  required  of  it.  Selfish  in  Sloppy,  and  yet  excusa- 
ble, it  may  be  humbly  hoped,  because  our  sister  had  been 
more  than  his  mother. 

The  words  were  read  above  the  ashes  of  Betty  Higdeu, 
in  a corner  of  a churchyard  near  the  river  ; in  a church- 
yard so  obscure  that  there  was  nothing  in  it  but  grass- 
mounds,  not  so  much  as  one  single  tombstone.  It  might 
not  be  to  do  an  unreasonably  great  deal  for  the  diggers 
and  hewers,  in  a registering  age,  if  we  ticketed  their  graves 
at  the  common  charge  ; so  that  a new  generation  might 
know  which  was  which  : so  that  the  soldier,  sailor,  emi- 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


145 


grant,  coming  home,  should  be  able  to  identify  the  rest- 
ing-place of  father,  mother,  playmate,  or  betrothed.  For 
we  turn  up  our  eyes  and  say  that  we  are  all  alike  in  death, 
and  we  might  turn  them  down  and  work  the  saying  out 
in  this  world,  so  far.  It  would  be  sentimental,  perhaps  ? 
But  how  say  ye,  my  lords  and  gentlemen  and  honorable 
boards,  shall  we  not  find  good  standing-room  left  for  a 
little  sentiment,  if  we  look  into  our  crowds  ? 

Near  unto  the  Reverend  Frank  Milvey  as  he  read  stood 
his  little  wife,  John  Rokesmith  the  Secretary,  and  Bella 
Wilfer.  These,  over  and  above  Sloppy,  were  the  mourn- 
ers at  the  lowly  grave.  Not  a penny  had  been  added  to 
the  money  sewn  in  her  dress  : what  her  honest  spirit  had 
so  long  projected  was  fulfilled. 

''  IVe  took  it  in  my  head,’^  said  Sloppy,  laying  it  incon- 
solable at  the  church  door,  when  all  was  done  : IVe 

took  it  in  my  wretched  head  that  I might  have  sometimes 
turned  a little  harder  for  her,  and  it  cuts  me  deep  to  think 
so  now.” 

The  Reverend  Frank  Milvey,  comforting  Sloppy,  ex- 
pounded to  him  how  the  best  of  us  were  more  or  less 
remiss  in  our  turnings  at  our  respective  Mangles — some 
of  us  very  much  so — and  how  we  were  all  a halting,  fail- 
ing, feeble,  and  inconstant  crew. 

She  warn^t,  Sir”  said  Sloppy,  taking  this  ghostly 
counsel  rather  ill,  in  behalf  of  his  late  benefactress.  ''  Let 
us  speak  for  ourselves.  Sir.  She  went  through  with 
whatever  duty  she  had  to  do.  She  went  through  with 
me,  she  went  through  with  the  Minders,  she  went  through 
with  herself,  she  went  through  with  every  thing.  O Mrs. 
Higden.  Mrs.  Higden,  you  was  a woman  and  a mother 
and  a mangier  in  a million  million  1” 


U6 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


With  those  , heart-felt  words  Sloppy  removed  his  de- 
jected head  frora  the  church  door,  and  took  it  back  to 
the  grave  in  the  corner,  and  laid  it  down  there,  and  wept 
alone.  Not  a very  poor  grave,’’  said  the  Rev.  Frank 
Milvey,  brushing  his  hand  across  bis  eyes,  “ when  it  has 
that  homely  figure  on  it.  Richer,  I think,  than  it  could 
be  made  by  most  of  the  sculpture  in  Westminster  Abbey!” 

They  left  him  undisturbed,  and  passed  out  at  the 
wicket-gate.  The  water-wheel  of  the  paper-mill  was  audi- 
ble there,  and  seemed  to  have  a softening  influence  on  the 
bright  wintry  vScene.  They  had  arrived  hut  a little  while 
before,  and  .Lizzie  Hexara  now  told  them  the  little  she 
could  add  to  the  letter  in  which  she  had  inclosed  Mr. 
Eokesmith’s  letter  and  had  asked  for  their  instructions. 
This  was  merely  how  she  had  heard  the  groan,  and  what 
had  afterwards  passed,  and  h.ow  she  had  obtained  leave 
for  the  remains  to  be  placed  in  that  sweet,  fresh,  empty 
store-room  of  the  mill  from  which  they  had  just  accom- 
panied them  to  the  church-yard,  and  how  the  last  requests 
bad  been  religiously  observed. 

“ I could  not  have  done  it  all,  or  nearly  all,  of  myself,” 
said  Lizzie.  “ I should  not  have  wanted  the  will  ; but  I 
should  not  have  had  the  power,  without  our  managing 
partner.” 

^‘Surely  not  the  Jew  who  received  us?”  said  Mrs 
Milvey. 

(^‘My  dear,”  observed  her  husband  in  parenthesis, 

why  not  ?”) 

“The  gentleman  certainly  is  a Jew,”  said  Lizzie,  “and 
the  Lady,  his  wife,  is  a Jewess,  and  I was  first  brought 
to  their  notice  by  a'Jew.  Bat  I tliink  there  can  not  m 
kinder  people  in  the  world,” 


OtTR  MUTUAL  FKIEKD* 


147 


But  suppose  they  try  to  convert  you  suggested 
Mrs.  Milvey,  bristliug  in  her  good  little  way,  as  a clergy^ 
man^s  wife. 

To  do  what,  ma’am  asked  Lizzie,  with  a modest 
smile. 

/'To  make  you  change  your  religion,”  said  Mrs* 
Milvey. 

Lizzie  shook  her  head,  still  smiling.  "They  have 
never  asked  me  what  my  religion  is.  They  asked  me 
what  my  story  was,  and  I told  them.  They  asked  me  to 
be  industrious  and  faithful,  and  I promised  to  be  so* 
They  most  willingly  and  cheerfully  do  their  duty  to  all  of 
us  who  are  employed  here,  and  we  try  to  do  ours  to 
them.  Indeed  they  do  much  more  than  their  duty  to  us, 
for  they  are  wonderfully  mindful  of  us  in  many  ways.” 
" It  is  easy  to  see  you’re  a favorite,  my  dear,”  said  lit- 
tle Mrs.  Milvey,  not  quite  pleased. 

" It  would  be  very  ungrateful  in  me  to  say  I am  not,” 
returned  Lizzie,  "for  I have  been  already  raised  to  a 
place  of  confidence  here.  But  that  makes  no  difference 
in  their  following  their  own  religion  and  leaving  all  of  us 
to  ours.  They  never  talk  of  theirsMo  us,  and  they  never 
talk  of  ours  to  us.  If  I was  the  last  in  the  mill  it  would 
be  just  the  same.  They  never  asked  me  what  religion 
that  poor  thing  had  followed.” 

" My  dear,”  said  Mrs.  Milvey,  aside  to  the  Reverend 
Frank,  " I wish  you  would  talk  to  her.” 

" My  dear,”  said  the  Reverend  Frank  aside  to  his  good 
little  v/ife,  " I think  I will  leave  it  to  somebody  else* 
The  circumstances  are  hardly  favorable.  There  are 
plenty  of  talkers  going  about,  my  love,  and  she  will  soon 
find  oiie.” 


148 


OVU  MOTUAL  li'RtKOT. 


While  this  discourse  was  interchanging,  both  Bella  and 
the  Secretary  observed  Lizzie  Hexam  with  great  atten- 
tion. Brought  fiice  to  face  for  the  first  time  with  the 
daughter  of  his  supposed  murderer,  it  was  natural  that 
John  Harmon  should  have  his  oVn  secret  reasons  for  a 
careful  scrutiny  of  her  countenance  and  manner.  Bella 
knew  that  Lizzie^s  father  had  been  falsely  accused  of  the 
crime  which  had  had  so  great  an  influence  on  her  own  life 
and  fortunes  5 and  her  interest,  though  it  had  no  secret 
springs,  like  that  of  the  Secretary,  was  equally  naturah 
Both  had  expected  to  see  some  thing  very  different  froni 
the  real  Lizzie  Hexam,  and  thus  it  fell  out  that  she  be- 
came the  unconscious  means  of  bringing  them  together. 

For  when  they  had  walked  on  with  her  to  the  little 
house  in  the  clean  village  by  the  paper-mill,  where  Lizzie 
had  a lodging  with  an  elderly  couple  employed  in  the  es- 
tablishment, and  when  Mrs*  Milvey  and  Bella  had  been  up 
to  see  her  room  and  had  come  down,  the  mill  bell  rang* 
This  called  Lizzie  away  for  the  time,  amd  left  the  Secre- 
tary and  Bella  standing  rather  awkwardly  in  the  small 
street ; Mrs.  Milvey  being  engaged  in  pursuing  the  village 
children,  and  her  infestigations  whether  they  were  in 
danger  of  becoming  children  of  Israel  ; and  the  Reverend 
Frank  being  engaged — to  say  the  truth— in  evading  that 
branch  of  his  spiritual  functions,  and  getting  out  of  sight 
surreptitiously. 

Bella  at  length  said  : 

HadnH  we  better  talk  about  the  commission  we  have 
undertaken,  Mr.  Rokesraith 

By  all  means/’  said  the  Secretary. 

“ I suppose,”  faltered  Bella,  that  we  arc  both  com- 
missioned, or  we  shouldn’t  both  be  here 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


149 


*'I  suppose  so,”  was  the  Secretai\y^s  answer. 

When  I proposed  to  come  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Milvey,” 
said  Bella,  ''Mrs.  Boffin  urged  me  to  do  so,  in  order  that 
I might  give  her  my  small  report — it’s  not  worth  any 
thing,  Mr.  Kokesmith,  except  for  it’s  being  a woman’s— 
wiiich  indeed  with  you  may  be  a fresh  reason  for  it’s  being 
worth  nothing — of  Lizzie  Hexam.” 

" Mr.  Boffin,”  said  the  Secretary,  " directed  me  to  come 
for  the  same  purpose.” 

As  they  spoke  they  were  leaving  the  little  street  and 
emerging  on  the  wooded  landscape  by  the  river. 

" You  think  well  of  her,  Mr.  Rokesmith  ?”  pursued 
Bella,  conscious  of  making  all  the  advances. 

I think  highly  of  her.” 

"I  am  so  glad  of  that  1 Something  quite  refined  in 
her  beauty,  is  there  not  ?” 

" Her  appearance  is  very  striking.” 

" There  is  a shade  of  sadness  upon  her  that  is  quite 
touching.  At  least  I — I am  not  setting  up  my  own  poor 
opinion,  you  know,  Mr.  Rokesmith,”  said  Bella,  excusing 
and  explaining  herself  in  a pretty  shy  way  ; "I  am  con- 
sulting yon.” 

" I noticed  that  sadness.  I hope  it  may  not,”  said  the 
Secretary  in  a lov/er  voice,  " be  the  result  of  the  false  ac- 
cusation which  has  been  retracted.” 

When  they  had  passed  on  a little  farther  without  speak- 
ing, Bella,  after  stealing  a glance  or  two  at  the  Secretary, 
suddenly  said  : 

" Oh,  Mr.  Rokesmith,  don’t  be  hard  with  me,  don’t  be 
stern  with  me  ; be  magnanimous  1 I want  to  talk  with 
you  on  equal  terms.” 

The  Secretary  as  suddenly  brightened,  and  returned  : 


150 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIE]srD. 


Upon  my  honor  I bad  no  thought  but  for  you.  I forced 
m}^self  to  be  constrained,  lest  you  might  misinterpret  my 
being  more  natural.  ,There.  It’s  gone.” 

Thank  you,”  said  Bella,  holding  out  her  little  hand. 

Forgive  me.” 

'^No  !”  cried  the  Secretary,  eagerly.  Forgive  .'” 
For  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  they  were  pret- 
tier in  his  sight  (though  they  smote  him  on  the  heart 
rather  reproachfully  too)  than  any  other  glitter  in  the 
world. 

When  they  had  walked  a little  further  : 

You  were  going  to  speak  to  me,”  said  the  Secretary, 
with  the  shadow  so  long  on  him  quite  thrown  off  and  cast 
away,  about  Lizzie  II exam.  So  was  I going  to  speak 
to  you,  if  I could  have  begun.” 

“ Now  that  you  can  begin,  Sir,”  returned  Bella,  with 
a look  as  if  she  italicized  the  word  by  putting  one  of  her 
dimples  under  it,  “ wliat  were  you  going  to  say  ?” 

“ You  remember,  of  course,  that  in  her  short  letter  to 
Mrs.  Boffin — short,  but  containing  every  thing  to  the 
purpose — she  stipulated  that  either  her  name,  or  else 
her  place  of  residence,  must  be  kept  strictly  a secret 
among  us.” 

Bella  nodded  yes. 

“ It  is  my  duty  to  find  out  why  she  made  that  stipula- 
tion. I have  it  in  charge  from  Mr.  Boffin  to  discover, 
and  I am  very  desirous  for  myself  to  discover,  whether 
that  retracted  accusation  still  leaves  any  stain  upon  her. 
I mean  wbethei*  it  places  her  at  any  disadvantage  toward 
any  one,  even  toward  herself.” 

Yes,”  said  Bella,  nodding  thoughtfully;  I under- 
stand. That  seems  wise  and  considerate.” 


OUIi  MUTUAL  FKIEND. 


151 


Yon  may  not  liave  noticed,  Miss  Wilier,  that  she 
has  the  same  kind  of  interest  in  you  that  you  have 
in  her.  Just  as  you  are  attracted  by  her  beaut — by  her 
appearance  and  manner,  she  is  attracted  by  yours.’’ 

I certainly  have  not  noticed  it,”  returned  Bella,  again 
italicizing  with  the  dimple,  and  I should  have  given  her 
credit  for — ” 

The  Secretary  with  a smile  held  up  his  hand,  so 
plainly  interposing  ^'not  for  better  taste”  that  Bella’s 
color  deepened  over  the  little  piece  of  coquetry  she  w’^as 
checked  in. 

And  so,”  resumed  the'  Secretary,  “ if  you  would 
speak  with  her  alone  before  we  go  away  from  here,  I feel 
quite  sure  that  a natural  and  easy  confidence  would  arise 
between  you.  Of  course  you  would  not  be  asked  to  be- 
tray it  ; and  of  course  you  would  not  if  you  were.  But 
if  you  do  not  object  to  put  this  question  to  her — to  ascer- 
tain for  us  her  own  feeling  in  this  one  matter — you  can  do 
so  at  a far  greater  advantage  than  I or  any  one  else  could. 
Mr.  Boffin  is  anxious  on  the^subject.  And  I am,”  added 
the  Secretary  after  a moment,  “ for  a special  reason,  very 
anxious.” 

“ I shall  be  happy,  Mr.  Bokesmith,”  returned  Bella, 
“to  be  of  the  least  use  ; for  I feel,  after  the  serious 
scene  or  to-day,  that  I am  useless  enough  in  this 
world.” 

“ Don’t  say  that,”  urged  the  Secretary. 

“ Oh,  but  I mean  that,”  said  Bella,  raising  her  eye- 
brows. 

“ B'o  one  is  useless  in  this  world,”  retorted  the 
Secretary,-  “ who  lightens  the  burden  of  it  for.  any  one 
else.” 


152 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


But  I assure  you  I donH^  Mr.  Eokesmith,’^  said  Bella, 
lialf  crying. 

Not  for  your  father  V\ 

“ Dear,  loving,  self-forgetting,  easily-satisfied  Pa  1 Oh 
yes  ! He  thinks  so.^^ 

It  is  enough  if  he  only  thinks  so,”  said  the  Secretary. 

Excuse  the  interruption  : I don’t  like  to  hear  you  de- 
preciate yourself.” 

But  you  once  depreciated  me,  Sir,”  thought  Bella, 
pouting,  and  I hope  you  may  be  satisfied  with  the  con- 
sequences you  brought  upon  your  head  !”  However,  she 
said  nothing  to  that  purpose  ; she  even  said  something 
to  a different  purpose. 

Mr.  Bokesmith,  it  seems  so  long  since  we  spoke  to- 
gether naturally,  that  I am  embarrassed  in  approaching 
another  subject.  Mr.  Boffin.  You  know  I am  very 
grateful  to  liim  ; don’t  you  ? You  know  I feel  a true 

respect  for  him,  and  am  bound  to  him  by  the  strong  ties 
of  his  own  generosity  ; now  don’t  yon  ?” 

Unquestionably.  And. also  that  you  are  his  favorite 
companion.” 

That  makes  it,”  said  Bella,  so  very  difficult  to 
speak  of  him.  But—  Does  he  treat  you  well  ?” 

You  see  how  he  treats  me,”  the  Secretary  answered, 
with  a patient  and  yet  proud  air. 

Yes,  and  I see  it  with  pain,”  said  Bella,  very  ener- 
getically. 

The  Secretary  gave  her  such  a radiant  look,  that  if  he 
had  thanked  her  a hundred  times  he  could  not  have  said 
as  much  as  the  look  said. 

‘‘I  see  it  with  pain,”  repeated  Bella,  and  it  often 
makes  me  miserable.  Miserable,  because  I cannot  bear 


OUE  MUTUAL  FEIEHD. 


153 


to  be  supposed  to  approve  of  it,  or  have  any  indirect 
snare  in  it.  Miserable,  because  I can  not  bear  to 
be  forced  to  admit  to  myself  that  Fortune  is  spoiling 
Mr.  Boffin.^^ 

‘^Miss  Wilfer,^^  said  the  Secretary,  with  a beaming 
face,  ‘‘  if  you  could  know  with  what  delight  I make  the 
discovery  that  Fortune  is  not  spoiling  you,  you  would 
know  that  it  more  than  compensates  me  for  any  slight  at 
any  other  hands  ” 

Oh,  don^t  speak  of  said  Bella,  giving  herself  an 
impatient  little  slap  with  her  glove.  You  don^t  know 
me  as  well  as — 

As  you  know  yourself  suggested  the  Secretary, 
finding  that  stopped.  Do  you  know  yourself 

I know  quite  enough  of  myself/^  said  Bella,  wdth  a 
charming  air  of  being  inclined  to  give  herself  up  as  a bad 
job,  “ and  I don’t  improve  upon  acquaintance.  But  Mr. 
Boffin.” 

“ That  Mr.  Boffin’s  manner  to  me,  or  consideration  for 
me,  is  not  wffiat  it  used  to  be,”  observed  the  Secretary, 
“ must  be  admitted.  It  is  too  plain  to  be  denied.” 

Are  you  disposed  to  deny  it,  Mr.  Kokesmith  ?”  asked 
Bella,  with  a look  of  wonder. 

''  Ought  I not  to  be  glad  to  do  so,  if  I could  ; though 
it  were  only  for  my  own  sake  ?” 

‘‘Truly,”  returned  Bella,  “ it  must  try  you  very  much, 
and — you  must  please  promise  me  that  you  won’t  take  ill 
what  I am  going  to  add,  Mr.  Rokesmith  V” 

“ I promise  it  with  all  my  heart.” 

“ — x\nd  it  must  sometimes,  I should  think,”  said 
Bella,  hesitating,  ‘‘  a little  lower  you  in  yotir  own  esti 
mation  ?” 


164 


OITK  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


Assenting  with  a moyement  of  his  head,  though  not  at 
all  looking  as  if  it  did,  the  Secretary  replied  : 

I have  very  strong  reasons.  Miss  Wilfer,  for  bearing 
with  the  drawbacks  of  my  position  in  the  house  we  both 
inhabit.  Believe  that  they  are  not  all  mercenary,  al- 
though I have,  through  a series  of  strange  fatalities,  faded 
out  of  my  place  in  life.  If  what  you  see  with  sucli  a 
gracious  and  good  sympathy  is  calculated  to  rouse  my 
pride,  there  are  other  considerations  (and  those  you  do 
not  see)  urging  me  to  quiet  endurance.  The  latter  are  by 
far  the  stronger.’^ 

“ I think  I have  noticed,  Mr.  Rokesmith,’^  said  Bella, 
looking  at  him  with  curiosit}^,  as  not  quite  making  him 
out,  that  you  repress  yourself,  and  force  yourself,  to  act 
a passive  part.” 

“ You  are  right.  I repress  myself  and  force  myself  to 
act  a part.  It  is  not  in  tameness  of  spirit  that  I submit. 
I have  a settled  purpose.^’ 

And  a good  one,  I hope,”  said  Bella. 

And  a good  one,  I hope,”  he  answered,  looking  stead- 
ily at  her. 

Sometimes  I have  fancied.  Sir,”  said  Bella,  turning 
away  her  eyes^  "‘that  your  great  regard  for  Mrs.  Boffin 
is  a very  powerful  motive  with  you.” 

You  are  right  again,  it  is.  I would  do  any  thing  for 
lier,  bear  any  thing  for  her.  There  are  no  words  to 
express  how  I esteem  that  good,  good  woman.” 

As  I do  too  ! May  I ask  you  one  thing  more,  Mr. 
Rokesmith  ?” 

Any  thing  more.” 

Of  course  you  see  that  she  really  suffers  when  Mr. 
Boffin  shows  how  he  is  changing  ?” 


OUli  MUTUAL  FKIEND. 


155 


“ I see  it  every  day,  as  you  see  it,  aud  am  grieved  to 
give  her  pain.^’ 

“ To  give  her  pain  said  Bella,  repeating  the  phrase 
quickly,  with  her  eyebrows  raised. 

“ I am  generally  the  unfortunate  cause  of  it.’^ 

Perhaps  she  says  to  you,  as  she  often  says  to  me,  that 
he  is  the  best  of  men,  in  spite  of  all.’’ 

I often  overhear  her,  in  her  honest  and  beautiful 
devotion  to  him,  saying  so  to  you,”  returned  the  Secre- 
tary, with  the  same  steady  look,  but  I can  not  assert 
that  she  ever  says  so  to  me.” 

Bella  met  the  steady  look  for  a moment  with  a wistful, 
musing  little  look  of  her  own,  and  then,  nodding  her 
pretty  head  several  times,  like  a dimpled  philosopher  ( of 
the  very  best  school ) who  was  moralizing  on  Life,  heaved 
a little  sigh,  and  gave  up  things  in  general  for  a bad  job, 
as  she  had  previously  been  inclined  to  give  up  herself. 

But  for  all  that  they  had  a very  pleasant  walk.  The 
trees  vv^ere  bare  of  leaves,  and  the  river  was  bare  of  water- 
lilies  ; but  the  sky  was  not  bare  of  its  beautiful  blue,  and 
the  water  reflected  it,  and  a delicious  wind  ran  with  the 
stream,  touching  the  surface  crisply.  Perhaps  the  old 
mirror  was  never  yet  made  by  human  hands,  which,  if  all 
the  images  it  has  in  its  time  reflected  could  pass  across  its 
surface  again,  would  fail  to  reveal  some  scene  of  horror  or 
distress.  But  the  great  serene  mirror  of  the  river  seemed 
as  if  it  might  have  reproduced  all  it  had  ever  reflected 
between  those  placid  banks,  and  brought  nothing  to  the 
light  save  what  v/as  peaceful,  pastoral,  and  blooming. 

So,  they  walked,  speaking  of  the  newly  filled-up  grave, 
and  of  Johnny,  and  of  many  things.  So,  on  their  return, 
they  met  brisk  Mrs.  Milvey  coming  to  seek  them,  with 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


156 

the  agreeable  intelligence  that  there  was  no  fear  for  the 
tillage  ch.ildren,  there  l)eing  a Christian  school  in  the  vil- 
lage, and  no  worse  Judaical  interference  with  it  than  to 
plant  its  garden.  So,  they  got  back  to  the  village  as 
Lizzie  Hexam  was  coming  from  the  paper-mill,  and  Bella 
detached  herself  to  speak  with  her  in  her  own  home. 

‘‘  I am  afraid  it  is  a poor  room  for  you/’  said  Lizzie, 

- with  a smile  of  welcome,  as  she  oiTered  the  post  of  honor 
by  the  fireside. 

Not  so  poor  as  you  think,  my  dear,”  returned  Bella, 
if  you  knew  all.”  Indeed,  though  attained  by  some 
wonderful  winding  narrow  stairs,  whicli  seemed  to  have 
been  erected  in  a pure  white  chimney,  and  though  very 
low  in  the  ceiling,  and  very  rugged  in  the  floor,  and  rather 
blinking  as  to  the  proportions  of  its  lattice  window,  it  was 
a pleasanter  room  than  that  despised  chamber  once  at 
home,  in  which  Bella  had  first  bemoaned  the  miseries  of 
taking  lodgers. 

The  day  was  closing  as  the  two  girls  looked  at  one 
another  by  the  fireside.  The  dusky  room  was  lighted  by 
the  fire.  The  grate  might  have  been  the  old  brazier,  and 
the  glow  might  have  been  the  old  hollow  dowm  by  the 
flare. 

It’s  quite  new  to  me,”  said  Lizzie,  to  be  visited  by 
a lady  so  nearly  of  my  own  age,  and  so  pretty,  as  you. 
It’s  a pleasure  to  me  to  look  at  you.” 

I have  nothing  left  to  begin  with,”  returned  Bella, 
blushing,  “ because  I was  going  to  say  that  it  was  a 
pleasure  to  me  to  look  at  you,  Lizzie.  But  we  cau 
begin  without  a beginning,  can’t  we  ?” 

Lizzie  took  the  pretty  little  hand  that  was  held  out  iu 
as  pretty  a little  frankness. 


Vm  IMUTUAL  FRIRJiTD. 


157 


Now,  dear,^^  said  Bella,  drawing  her  chair  a little 
nearer,  and  taking  Lizzie^s  arm  as  if  they  were  going  out 
for  a walk,  “I  am  commissioned  with  something  to  say, 
and  I dare  say  I shall  say  it  wrong,  but  I woiVt  if  I can 
help  it.  It  is  in  reference  to  your  letter  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Boffin,  and  this  is  what  it  is.  Let  me  see.  Oh  yes  1 
This  is  what  it  is.’^ 

With  this  exordium  Bella  set  forth  that  request  of 
Lizzie^s  touching  secrecy,  and  delicately  spoke  of  that 
false  accusation  and  its  retractation,  and  asked  might 
she  beg  to  be  informed  whether  it  had  any  bearing,  near 
or  remote,  on  such  request.  “ I feel,  my  dear,^’  said 
Bella,  quite  amazing  herself  by  the  business-like  manner 
in  which  she  was  getting  on,  ‘‘  that  the  subject  must  be  & 
painful  one  to  you,  but  I am  mixed  up  in  it  also  ; for — 
I doffit  know  whether  you  may  know  it  or  suspect  it — 
I am  the  wilied-away  girl  who  was  to  have  been  married 
to  the  unfortunate  gentleman,  if  he  had  been  pleased  to 
approve  of  me.  So  I was  dragged  into  the  subject  v»^ith- 
out  my  consent,  and  you  were  dragged  into  it  without 
your  consent,  and  there  is  very  little  to  choose  betw^een 
us.^^ 

I had  no  doubt,’^  said  Lizzie,  that  you  were  the 
Miss  Wilfer  I have  often  heard  named.  Can  you  tell  me 
who  my  unknown  friend  is  V’ 

Unknown  friend,  my  dear  said  Bella. 

“ Who  caused  the  charge  against  poor  father  to  be 
contradicted,  and  sent  me  the  written  paper.” 

Bella  had  never  heard  of  him.  Had  no  notion  who  he 
^was. 

''  I should  have  been  glad  to  thank  him,”  returned  Liz- 
zie. He  has  done  a great  deal  for  me.  I must  hope 


158 


OUR  MUTUAL  FETEND. 


that  he  will  let  me  thank  him  some  day.  You  asked  ma 
has  it  any  thing  to  do — 

It  or  the  accusation  itself/’  Bella  put  in. 

Yes.  Has  cither  any  tiling  to  do  with  my  wishing  to 
live  quite  secret  and  retired  here?  No.” 

As  Lizzie  Hexam  shook  her  head  in  giving  this  reply 
and  as  her  glance  sought  the  fire,  there  was  a quiet  reso- 
lution in  her  folded  hands,  not  lost  on  Bella’s  bright  eyes. 
Have  you  lived  much  alone  ?” 

Yes.  It’s  nothing  new  to  me.  I used  to  be  always 
alone  many  hours  together,  in  the  day  and  in  the  night, 
when  poor  father  was  alive.” 

You  have  a brother,  I have  been  told.” 

I have  a brother,  but  he  is  not  friendly  with  me.  He 
is  a very  good  boy,  though,  and.  has  raised  himself  by  his 
industry.  I don’t  complain  of  him.” 

As  she  said  it,  with  her  eyes  upon  the  fire-glow,  there 
was  an  instantaneous  escape  of  distress  into  her  face. 
Bella  seized  the  moment  to  touch  her  hand. 

Lizzie,  I wish  you  would  tell  me  whether  you  have 
any  friend  of  your  own  sex  and  age  ?” 

I have  lived  that  lonely  kind  of  life  that  I have  never 
had  one,”  was  the  answer. 

Nor  I neither,”  said  Bella.  Not  that  my  life  has 
been  lonely,  for  I could  have  sometimes  wished  it  lonelier, 
instead  of  hewing  Ma  going  on  like  the  Tragic  Muse  with 
a face-ache  in  majestic  corners,  and  Lavvy  being  spiteful — 
though  of  course  I am  very  fond  of  them  both.  I wish  you 
could  make  a friend  of  me,  Lizzie.  Bo  you  think  you  could  ? 
I have  no  more  of  what  they  call  character,  my  dear^ 
than  a canary-bird,  but  I know  that  I am  trustworthy.” 
The  wayward,  playful,  affectionate  nature,  giddy  for 


OUB  MUTUAL  FKIEND. 


159 


want  of  the  weight  of  some  sustaining  purpose,  and  ca- 
pricious because  it  was  always  fluttering  among  little 
things,  was  yet  a captivating  one.  To  Lizzie  it  was  so 
new,  so  pretty,  at  once  so  womanly  and  so  childish,  that 
it  won  her  completely.  And  when  Bella  said  again,  “ Do 
you  think  you  could,  Lizzie  V’  with  her  eyebrows  raised, 
her  head  inquiringly  on  one  side,  and  an  odd  doubt  about 
it  in  her  own  bosom,  Lizzie  showed,  beyond  all  question, 
that  she  thought  she  could. 

Tell  me,  my  dear,’’  said  Bella,  what  is  the  matter, 
and  why  you  live  like  this.” 

Lizzie  presently  began,  by  way  of  prelude,  “You 
must  have  many  lovers — ” when  Bella  checked  her  with 
a little  scream  of  astonishment. 

“My  dear,  I havn’t  one.” 

“ Not  one  ?” 

“Well  ! Perhaps  one,”  said  Bella.  “I  am  sure  I 
don’t  know.  I had  one,  but  what  he  may  think  about  it 
at  the  present  time  I can’t  say.  Perhaps  I have  half  a 
one  (of  course  I don’t  count  that  idiot,  George  Samp- 
son). However,  never  mind  mo.  I want  to  hear  about 
you.” 

“ There  is  a certain  man,”  said  Lizzie,  “ a passionate 
and  angry  man,  who  says  he  loves  me,  and  who  I must 
believe  does  love  me.  He  is  the  friend  of  my  brother.  I 
shrank  from  him  within  myself  when  my  brother  first 
brought  him  to  «me  ; but  the  last  time  I saw  him 
he  ^terrified  me  more  than  I can  say.”  There  she 
stopped. 

“ Did  you  come  here  to  escape  from  him,  Lizzie  ?” 

“ I came  here  immediately  after  he  so  alarmed  me.” 

“ Are  you  afraid  of  him  here  ?” 


160 


OUlt  MUTUAL  FBIEND. 


I am  not  timid  generally,  but  I am  always  afraid  of 
him.  I am  afraid  to  see  a newspaper,  or  to  hear  a word 
spoken  of  what  is  done  in  London,  lest  he  should  have 
done  some  violence.’^ 

''  Then  you  are  not  afraid  of  him  for  yourself,  dear,^^ 
said  Bella,  after  pondering  on  the  words. 

I sliould  be  even  that,  if  I met  him  about  here. 
I look  round  for  him  always,  as  I pass  to  and  fro  at 
night.’^ 

Atc  you  afraid  of  any  thing  he  may  do  to  himself  in 
London,  my  dear 

‘^No.  He  might  be  fierce  enough  even  to  do  some 
violence  to  himself,  but  I donT  think  of  that/^ 

Then  it  would  almost  seem,  dear,^’  said  Bella  quaintly, 
as  if  there  must  be  somebody  else 
Lizzie  put  her  hands  before  her  face  for  a moment  be- 
fore rejdying  : ‘^The  words  are  always  in  my  ears,  and 
the  blow  he  struck  upon  a stone-wall  as  he  said  them  is 
always  before  my  eyes.  I have  tried  hard  to  think  it  not 
worth  remembering,  but  I can  not  make  so  little  of  it. 
His  hand  was  trickling  down  with  blood  as  he  said  to  me, 
‘ Then  I hope  that  I may  never  kill  him  !’ 

Bather  startled,  Bella  made  and  clasped  a girdle  of  her 
arms  round  Lizzie’s  waist,  and  then  asked  quietly,  in  a 
soft  voice,  as  they  both  looked  at  the  fire  : 

Kill  him  ! Is  this  man  so  jealous,  then  ?” 

Of  a gentleman,”  said  Lizzie.  1 hardly  know  how 
to  tell  you — of  a gentleman  far  above  me  and  my  way  of 
life,  who  broke  father’s  death  to  me,  and  has  shown  an 
interest  in  me  since.” 

Does  he  love  you  ?” 

Lizzie  shook  her  head. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


161 


“Does  heMmire  yoa  ?■’ 

Lizzie  ceased  to  shake  her  bead,  aud  pressed  her  hand 
upon  her  living  girdle. 

“ Is  it  through  his  influence  that  you  came  here 

“ 0 no  ! And  of  all  the  world  I wouldn’t  have  him 
know  that  I am  here,  or  get  the  least  clue  where  to  find 
me.” 

“Lizzie,  dear  ! Why  ?”  asked  Bella,  in  amazement  at 
this  burst.  But  then  quickly  added,  reading  Lizzie’s 
face  : “ No.  Don’t  say  why.  That  was  a foolish  question 
of  mine.  I see,  I see.” 

There  was  silence  between  them.  Lizzie,  with  a droop- 
ing head,  glanced  down  at  the  glow  in  the  fire  where  her 
first  fancies  had  been  nursed,  and  her  first  escape  made 
from  the  grim  life  out  of  which  she  had  plucked  her 
brother,  foreseeiug  her  reward. 

“ You  know  all  now,”  she  said,  raising  her  eyes  to  Bel- 
la’s. “ There  is  nothing  left  out.  This  is  my  reason  for 
living  secret  here,  with  the  aid  of  a gojod  old  man  who  is 
my  true  friend.  For  a short  part  of  my  life  at  home  with 
father,  I knew  of  things — don’t  ask  me  what — that  I set 
my  face  against,  and  tried  to  better.  I don’t  think  I 
could  have  done  more,  then,  without  letting  my  hold  on 
father  go  ; but  they  sometimes  lie  heavy  on  my  mind. 
By  doing  all  for  the  best,  I hope  I may  wear  them  out.” 

“ And  wear  out  too,”  said  Bella,  soothingly,  “ this 
weakness,  Lizzie,  in  favor  of  one  who  is  not  worthy 
of  it.” 

“No.  I don’t  wmnt  to  wear  that  out,”  was  the  flushed 
reply,  “ nor  do  I want  to  believe,  nor  do  I believe,  that 
he  is  not  worthy  of  it.  What  should  I gain  by  that,  and 
how  much  should  I lose  I” 


162 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


Beliaks  expressive  little  eyebrows  remonstrated  with  the 
fire  for  some  short  time  before  she  rejoined  : 

''Dont  think  that  I press  you,  Lizzie;  but  wouldn^t 
you  gain  in  peace,  and  hope,  and  even  in  freedom  ? 
Wouldn’t  it  be  better  not  to  live  a secret  life  in  biding, 
and  not  to  be  shut  out  from  your  natural  and  whole- 
some prospects  ? Forgive  my  asking  you,  would  that  be 
no  gain  ?” 

Does  a woman’s  heart  that — that  has  that  weakness 
in  it  which  you  have  spoken  of,”  returned  Lizzie,  “ seek 
to  gain  any  thing  ?” 

The  question  was  so  directly  at  variance  wnth  Bella’s 
viev/s  in  life,  as  set  forth  to  her  father,  that  she  said,  in- 
ternally, ‘‘There,  you  little  mercenary  wretch  ! Do  you 
hear  tliat  ? Ain’t  you  ashamed  of  yourself  ?”  and  un- 
clasped the  girdle  of  her  arms,  expressly  to  give  herself  a 
penitential  poke  in  the  side. 

“ But  you  said,  Lizzie,”  observed  Bella,  returning  to 
her  subject  when  she  had  administered  this  chastisement, 
‘‘that  you  would  lose,  besides.  Would  you  mind  telling 
me  what  you  would  lose,  Lizzie  ?” 

“ i should  lose  some  of  the  l>est  recollections,  best  en- 
couragements, and  best  objects,  that  I carry  through  my 
daily  life.  I should  lose  my  belief  that  if  I had  been  his 
equal,  and  he  had  loved  me,  I should  have  tried  with  all 
my  might  to  make  him  better  and  happier  as  he  would 
have  made  me.  I should  lose  almost  all  the  value  that  I 
put  upon  the  little  learning  I have,  which  is  ail  owing  to 
him,  and  which  I conquered  the  difficulties  of,  that  he 
might  not  tlnnk  it  thrown  away  upon  me.  I should  lose 
a kind  of  picture  of  him — or  of  what  he  might  have  been, 
if  I had  been  a lady,  and  he  had  loved  me — which  is 


CUB  MUTUAL  FBIEND. 


163 


always  with  me,  and  which  I somehow-  feel  that  I could 
not  do  a mean  or  a "wrong  thing  before.  I should  leave 
off  prizing  the  remembrance  that  he  has  done  me  nothing 
blit  good  since  I have  known  him,  and  that  he  has  made 
a change  within  me,  like — like  the  change  in  the  grain  of 
tliese  hands,  which  were  coarse,  and  cracked,  and  hard, 
and  brown  when  I rowed  on  the  river  with  father,  and 
are  softened  and  made  supple  by  this  new  work  as  you  see 
them  now.’^ 

They  trembled,  but  with  no  weakness,  as  she  showed 
them. 

“Understand  me,  my  dear  thus  she  went  on.  “I 
have  never  dreamed  of  the  possibility  of  his  being  any 
thing  to  me  on  this  earth  but  the  kind  of  picture  that  I 
know  I could  not  make  you  understand,  if  the  understand- 
ing was  not  in  your  own  breast  already.  I have  no  more 
dreamed  of  the  possibility  of  my  being  his  wife  than  he 
ever  has — and  words  could  not  be  stronger  than  that. 
And  yet  I love  him.  I love  him  so  much,  and  so  dearly, 
that  when  I sometimes  think  my  life  may  be  but  a weary 
one,  I am  proud  of  it  and  glad  of  it.  I am  proud  and 
glad  to  suffer  something  for  him,  even  though  it  is  of 
no  service  to  him,  and  he  will  never  know  of  it  or  care 
for  it.’^ 

Bella  sat  enchained  by  the  deep,  unselfish  passion  of 
this  girl  or  woman  of  her  own  age,  courageously  reveal- 
ing itself  in  the  confidence  of  her  sympathetic  perception 
of  its  truth.  And  yet  she  had  never  experienced  any 
thing  like  it,  or  thought  of  the  existence  of  any  thing 
like  it. 

“It  was  late  upon  a wretched  night,’^  said  Lizzie, 

when  his  eyes  first  looked  at  me  i|i  my  old  river-side 


164 


OUR  MUTUAI.  FRIEND. 


liome,  very  different  from  this.  His  eyes  may  never  look 
at  me  again.  I would  rather  that  they  never  did  : I hope 
that  they  never  may.  But  I would  not  have  the  light  of 
them  taken  out  of  my  life  for  any  thing  my  life  can  give 
me.  I have  told  you  every  thing  now,  my  dear.  If  it 
comes  a little  strange  to  me  to  have  parted  with  it,  I am 
not  sorry.  I had  no  thought  of  ever  parting  with  a sin- 
gle word  of  it  a moment  before  you  came  in  ; but  you 
came  in,  and  my  mind  changed/^ 

Bella  kissed  her  on  the  cheek,  and  thanked  her  warmly 
for  her  confidence.  I only  wisli,’^  said  Bella,  was 
more  deserving  of  it.'^ 

More  deserving  of  it  repeated  Lizzie,  with  an  in- 
credulous smile. 

I don^t  mean  in  respect  of  keeping  it,^’  said  Bella, 
because  any  one  should  tear  me  to  bits  before  getting 
at  a syllable  of  it — though  there’s  no  merit  in  that,  for  I 
am  naturally  as  obstinate  as  a Pig.  What  I mean  is, 
Lizzie,  that  I am  a mere  impertinent  piece  of  conceit,  and 
you  shame  me.” 

Lizzie  put  up  the  pretty  brown  hair  that  came  tum- 
bling down,  owing  to  the  energy  with  which  Bella  shook 
her  head  ; and  she  remonstrated  while  thus  engaged, 
“ My  dear  !” 

Oh,  it’s  all  very  well  to  call  me  your  dear,”  said 
Bella,  with  a pettish  whimper,  “ and  I am  glad  to  be 
called  so,  though  I have  slight  enough  claim  to  be.  But 
I AM  such  a nasty  little  thing  !” 

My  dear  !”  urged  Lizzie  again. 

Such  a shallow,  cold,  worldly,  Limited  little  brute  I” 
said  Bella,  bringing  out  her  last  adjective  with  culminat- 
ing force. 


OtJR  MtJTtTAI. 


165 


Do  you  tbink/^  inquired  Lizzie,  with  her  quiet  smile, 
the  hair  being  now  secured,  “ that  I don’t  know  be^ 
ter  ?” 

Do  you  know  better,  though  ?”  said  Bella.  Do  you 
really  believe  you  know  better  ? Oh,  I should  be  so  glad 
• if  you  did  know  better,  but  I am  so  very  much  afraid 
that  I must  know  best  !^’ 

Lizzie  asked  her,  laughing  outright,  whether  she  ever 
saw  her  own  face  or  heard  her  own  voice  ? 

I suppose  so,^’  returned  Bella  ; I Iqok  in  the  glass 
often  enough,  and  I chatter  like  a Magpie*^’ 

I have  seen  your  face,  and  heard  your  voice,  at  any 
rate,”  said  Lizzie,  “ and  they  have  tempted  me  to  say  to 
you — with  a certainty  of  not  going  wrong — what  I 
thought  I should  never  say  to  a.ny  one.  Does  that 
look  ill  ?” 

No,  I hope  it  doesn’t,”  pouted  Bella,  stopping  her* 
self  in  something  between  a humored  laugh  and  a hu- 
mored sob. 

I used  once  to  see  pictures  in  the  fire,”  said  Lizzie, 
playfully,  ^‘to  please  my  brother.  Shall  I tell  you  what 
I see  down  there  where  the  fire  is  glowing  ?” 

They  had  risen,  and  were  standing  on  the  hearth,  the 
time  being  come  for  separating  ; each  had  drawn  an  arm 
around  the  other  to  take  leave. 

Shall  I tell  you,”  asked  Lizzie,  *‘what  I see  down 
there  ?” 

Limited  little  b ?”  suggested  Bella,  with  her  eye- 
brows raised. 

A heart  well  worth  winning  and  well  won.  A heart 
that,  once  won,  goes  through  fire  and  water  for  the 
winner,  and  never  changes,  and  is  never  daunted.” 


166 


OUB  MUTtJAL 


GirPs  heart  ?”  asked  Bella,  with  accompanying  ey6» 
brows. 

Lizzie  nodded.  And  the  figure  to  which  it  be- 
longs-^’^ 

Is  yours,’’  suggested  Bella. 

No.  Most^clearly  and  distinctly  yours.” 

“ So  the  interview  terminated  with  pleasant  w'ords  on 
both  sides,  and  with  many  reminders  on  the  part  of  Bella 
tliat  they  were  friends,  and  pledges  that  she  would  soon 
come  down  into^  that  part  of  the  country  again.  There- 
with Lizzie  returned  to  her  occupation,  and  Bella  ran  over 
to  the  little  inn  to  rejoin  her  company. 

You  look  rather  serious.  Miss  Wilfer,”  was  the  Secre- 
tary’s first  remark. 

I feel  rather  serious,”  returned  Miss  Wilfer. 

She  had  nothing  else  to  tell  him  but  that  Lizzie  Hex- 
am’s  secret  had  no  reference  whatever  to  the  cruel  cliarge 
or  its  withdrawal.  Oh  yes,  though  ! said  Bella  ; she 
might  as  well  mention  one  other  thing  ; Lizzie  was  very 
desirous  to  thank  her  unknown  friend  who  had  sent  her 
the  written  retractation.  Wa.s  she,  indeed?  observed 
the  Secretary.  Ah  ! Bella  asked  him,  had  he  any  notion 
who  that  unknown  friend  might  be  ? He  had  no  notion 
whatever. 

They  were  on  the  borders  of  Oxfordshire,  so  far  had 
poor  old  Betty  Higden  strayed.  They  were  to  return  by 
the  train  presently,  and,  the  station  being  near  at  hand, 
the  Reverend  Lrank  and  Mrs.  Frank,  and  Sloppy  and 
Bella  and  the  Secretary,  set  out  to  walk  to  it.  Few  rus- 
tic paths  are  wide  enough  for  five,  and  Bella  and  the 
Secretary  dropped  behind. 

‘‘  Can  you  believe,  Mr.  Rokesmith,”  said  Bella,  that  I 


OUK  MUTUAL  FEIEKD* 


167 


feel  as  if  whole  years  had  past  since  I went  into  Lizzie 
Hexam’s  cottage 

“We  haye  crowded  a good  deal  into  the  day,”  he 
returned,  and  you  were  much  affected  in  the  cburchyaixL 
You  are  over-tired.’’ 

“ 1^0, 1 am  not  at  all  tired.  I have  not  quite  expressed 
what  I mean.  I don’t  mean  that  I feel  as  if  a great 
space  of  time  had  gone  by,  but  I feel  as  if  much  had  hap- 
pened— to  myself,  you  know.” 

“ For  good,  I hope  ?” 

“ I hope  so,”  said  Bella. 

“You  arc  cold  ; I felt  you  tremble.  Pray  let  me  put 
this  wu’apper  of  mine  about  you.  May  I fold  it  over  this 
shoulder  without  injuring  your  dress ? Isow,  it  will  be 
too  heavy  and  too  long.  Let  me  carry  this  end  over  my 
arm,  as  you  have  no  arm  to  give  me.” 

Yes  she  had  though.  How  she  got  it  out,  in  he? 
muffled  state.  Heaven  knows  ; but  she  got  it  out  some- 
how— there  it  w^as — and  slipped  it  through  the  Sec- 
retary’s. 

“ I have  had  a long  and  interesting  talk  with  Lizzie^ 
Mr.  Bokesmith,  and  she  gave  me  her  full  confidence.” 

“ She  could  not  withhold  it,”  said  the  Secretary. 

“ I wonder  how  you  come,”  said  Bella,  stopping  short 
as  she  glanced  at  him,  “to  say  to  me  just  wliat  she  said 
about  it  !” 

“ I infer  that  it  must  be  because  I feel  just  as  she  felt 
about  it.” 

“ And  how  was  that,  do  you  mean  to  say,  Sir,”  asked 
Bella,  moving  again. 

“ That  if  you  were  iuclined  to  win  her  confidence — 
anybody’s  confidence — you  were  sure  to  do  it,” 


168 


OVR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


The  railway,  at  this  point,  knowingly  shutting  a green 
eye  and  opening  a red  one,  they  had  to  run  for  it.  As 
Bella  could  not  run  easily  so  wrapped  up,  the  Secretary 
bad  to  help  her.  When  she  took  her  opposite  place  in  the 
carriage  corner,  the  brightness  in  her  face  was  so  charm- 
ing to  behold,  that  on  her  exclaiming,  What  beautiful 
stars  and  what  a glorious  night  T’  the  Secretary  said 

Yes,’’  but  seemed  to  prefer  to  see  the  night  and  the 
stars  in  the  light  of  her  lovely  little  countenance  to  look- 
ing out  of  window. 

0 boofer  lady,  fascinating  boofer  lady  ! If  I were  but 
legally  executor  of  Johnny’s  will  ! If  I had  but  the 
right  to  pay  your  legacy  and  to  take  your  receipt  ! 
Something  to  this  purpose  surely  mingled  with  the  blast 
of  the  train  as  it  cleared  the  stations,  all  knowingly  shut- 
ting up  their  green  eyes  and  opening  their  red  ones  when 
they  prepared  to  let  the  boofer  lady  pass. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRISIffD, 


169 


CHAPTER  X. 

SCOUTS  OUT. 

‘‘  Ani>  so,  Miss  Wren,’’  said  Mr.  Eugene  Wray  burn,  “ I 
can  not  persuade  you  to  dress  me  a doll  ?” 

^^No,”  replied  Miss  Wren,  snappishly  ; you  want 
one,  go  and  buy  one  at  the  shop.” 

And  my  charming  young  goddaughter,”  said  Mr. 
Wrayburn,  plaintively,  down  in  Hertfordshire — ■” 

(‘^  Humbiigshire  you  mean,  I think,”  interposed  Miss 
Wren.) 

— is  to  be  put  upon  the  cold  footing  of  the  general 
public,  and  is  to  derive  no  advantage  from  my  private 
acquaintance  with  the  Court  Dress-maker  ?” 

**  If  it’s  any  advantage  to  your  charming  godchild — 
and  oh,  a precious  godfather  she  has  got  I”  replied  Miss 
Wren  pricking  at  him  in  the  air  with  her  needle,  to  be 
informed  that  the  Court  Dress-maker  knows  your  tricks 
and  your  manners,  you  may  tell  her  so  by  post,  with  my 
compliments.” 

Miss  Wren  was  busy  at  her  work  by  candlelight,  and 
Mr.  Wrayburn,  half  amused  and  lialf  vexed,  and  all  id'o 
and  shiftless,  stood  by  her  bench  looking  on.  Miss 
Wren’s  troublesome  child  was  in  the  corner  in  deep  dis- 
grace, and  exhibiting  great  wretchedness  in  the  shivering 
stage  of  prostration  from  drink. 


170 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


^^Ugh,  you  disgraceful  boy  exclaimed  Miss  Wren, 
attracted  by  the  sound  of  his  chattering  teetli,  ‘‘  I wish 
they’d  all  drop  down  your  throat  and  play  at  'dice  in 
your  stomach  ! Boh,  wicked  child  ! Bee-baa,  black 
sheep  T’ 

On  her  accompanying  each  of  these  reproaches  with  a 
threatening  stamp  of  the  foot,  the  wretched  creature  pro- 
tested v/ith  a whine. 

Pay  five  shillings  for  you  indeed  !”  Miss  Y7ren  pro- 
ceeded ; how  many  hours  do  you  suppose  it  costs  me 
to  earn  five  shillings,  you  infamous  boy  ? — Don’t  cry  like 
that,  or  I’ll  throw  a doll  at  you.  Pay  five  shillings  fine 
for  you  indeed.  Fine  in  more  ways  than  one,  I think  ! 
Pd  give  the  dustman  five  shillings  to  carry  you  off  in  the 
dust  cart.” 

No,  no,”  pleaded  the  absurd  creature.  Please  !” 

‘‘  Pie’s  enough  to  break  his  mother’s  heart,  is  this  boy,” 
said  Miss  Wren,  half  appealing  to  Eugene.  I wish  I 
had  never  brought  him  up.  He’d  be  sharper  than  a ser- 
pent’s tooth,  if  he  wasn’t  as  dull  as  ditch  water.  Look 
at  him.  There’s  a pretty  object  for  a parent’s  eyes  I” 
Assuredly,  in  his  worse  than  swinish  state  (for  swine 
at  least  fatten  on  their  guzzling,  and  make  themselves 
good  to  eat),  he  was  a pretty  object  for  any  eyes. 

A muddling  and  a swipey  old  child,”  said  Miss  Wren, 
rating  him  with  great  severity,  fit  for  nothing  but  to  be 
preserved  in  the  liquor  that  destroys  him,  and  put  in  a 
great  glass  bottle  as  a sight  for  other  swipey  children  of 
his  own  pattern — if  he  has  no  consideration  for  his  liver, 
has  he  none  for  his  mother  ?” 

**  Yes.  Deration,  oh  don’t  I”  cried  the  subject  of  these 
angry  remarks. 


OtTR  MUTUAL  FEIEN1>. 


171 


**  Oh  don’t  and  oh  don’t,”  pursued  Miss  Wren.  ^^It’s 
oh  do  and  oh  do.  And  why  do  you  ?” 

Won’t  do  so  any  more.  Won’t  indeed.  Pray  !’^ 

“ There  !”  said  Aliss  Wren,  covering  her  eyes  with  her 
hand.  I can’t  bear  to  look  at  you.  Go  up  stairs  and 
get  me  my  bonnet  and  shawl.  Make  yourself  useful  in 
gome  way,  bad  boy,  and  let  me  have  your  room  instead 
of  your  company  for  one  half  minute.” 

Obeying  her,  he  shambled  out,  and  Eugene  Wrayburn 
saw  the  tears  exude  from  between  the  little  creature’s 
fingers  as  she  kept  her  hand  before  her  eyes.  He  was 
sorry,  but  his  sympathy  did  not  move  his  carelessness  to 
do  anything  but  feel  sorry. 

“ I’m  going  to  the  Italian  Opera  to  try  on,”  said  Miss 
Wren,  taking  away  her  hand  after  a little  while,  and 
laughing  satirically  to  hide  that  she  had  been  crying  ; 

I must  see  your  back  befbre  I go,  Mr.  Wrayburn.  Let 
me  first  tell  you,  once  for  all,  that  it’s  of  no  use  your  pay- 
ing visits  to  me.  You  wouldn’t  get  what  you  want  of 
me,  no,  not  if  you  brought  pincers  with  you  to  tear 
it  out.” 

Are  you  so  obstinate  on  the  subject  of  a doll’s  dress 
for  my  godchild  ?” 

Ah  1”  returned  Miss  Wren,  with  a hitch  of  her  chin, 
I am  so  obstinate.  And  of  course  it’s  on  the  subject  of 
a doll’s  dress — or  rnidress — whichever  you  like.  Get 
along  and  give  it  up  I” 

Her  degraded  charge  had  come  back,  and  was  stand- 
ing behind  her  with  the  bonnet  and  shawl. 

Give  ’em  to  me  and  get  back  into  your  corner,  you 
naughty  old  thing  !”  said  Miss  Wren,  as  she  turned  and 


OtJR  MUTtJAL 


172 

espied  him.  ISTo,  no,  I wonH  have  your  help.  Go  into 
your  corner,  this  minute 

The  miserable  man,  feebly  rubbing  the  back  of  his  fal* 
tering  hands  downward  from  the  wrists,  shuffled  on  to  his 
post  of  disgrace  ; but  not  without  a curious  glance  at 
Eugene  in  passing  him,  accompanied  with  what  seemed  as 
if  it  might  have  been  an  action  of  his  elbow,  if  any  action 
of  any  limb  or  joint  he  had  w^ould  have  answered  truly  to 
his  will.  Taking  no  more  particular  notice  of  him  than 
instinctively  falling  away  from  the  disagreeable  contact, 
Eugene,  with  a lazy  compliment  or  so  to  Miss  Wren, 
begged  leave  to  light  his  cigar,  and  departed. 

Now  you  prodigal  old  son,”  said  Jenny,  shaking  her 
head  and  her  emphatic  little  forefinger  at  her  burden, 

you  sit  there  till  I come  back.  You  dare  to  move  out 
of  your  corner  for  a single  instant  while  I^m  gone,  and  1*11 
know  the  reason  wliy.” 

With  this  admonition  she  blew  her  work  candies  out, 
leaving  him  to  the  light  of  the  fire,  and,  taking  her  big 
door-key  in  her  pocket  and  her  crutch-stick  in  her  hand, 
marched  off. 

Eugene  lounged  slowly  toward  the  Temple,  smoking 
his  cigar,  but  saw  no  more  of  the  dolls’  dressnnaker,  through 
the  accident  of  their  taking  opposite  sides  of  the  street. 
He  lounged  along  moodily,  and  stopped  at  Charing  Cross 
to  look  about  him,  with  as  little  interest  in  the  crowd  as 
any  man  might  take,  and  was  lounging  on  again,  wdien  a 
most  unexpected  object  caught  his  eyes.  No  less  an 
object  than  Jenny  Wren’s  bad  boy  trying  to  make  up  his 
mind  to  cross  the  road. 

A more  ridiculous  and  feeble  spectacle  than  this  totter- 


OTJK  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


173 


ing  wretch  leaking  unsteady  sallies  into  the  roadway,  and 
as  often  staggering  back  again,  oppressed  by  terrors  of 
vehicles  that  were  a long  way  off  or  were  nowhere,  the 
streets  could  not  have  shown.  Over  and  over  again, 
when  the  course  was  perfectly  clear,  he  set  out,  got  half- 
way, described  a loop,  turned,  and  went  back  again, 
when  he  might  have  crossed  and  re-crossed  half  a dozen 
times.  Then  he  would  stand  shivering  on  the  edge  of  the 
pavement,  looking  up  the  street  and  looking  down,  while 
scores  of  people  jostled  him,  and  crossed,  and  went  on. 
Stimulated  in  course  of  time  by  the  sight  of  so  many  suc- 
cesses, he  would  make  another  sally,  make  another  loop, 
would  ail  but  have  his  foot  on  the  opposite  pavement, 
would  see  or  imagine  something  coming,  and  would  stag- 
ger back  again.  There,  he  would  stand  making  spasmodic 
preparations  as  if  for  a great  leap,  and  at  last  would 
decide  on  a start  at  precisely  the  wrong  moment,  and 
would  be  roared  at  by  drivers,  and  would  shrink  back 
once  more,  and  stand  in  the  old  spot  shivering,  with  the 
whole  of  the  proceedings  to  go  through  again. 

It  strikes  me,’^  remarked  Eugene,  coolly,  after  watch- 
ing him  for  some  minutes,  that  my  friend  is  likely  to  be 
rather  behind  time  if  he  has  any  appointment  on  hand.” 
With  which  remark  he  strolled  on,  and  took  no  further 
thought  of  him. 

Light  wood  was  at  home  when  he  got  to  the  Chambers, 
and  had  dined  alone  there.  Eugene  drew  a chair  to  the 
fire  by  which  he  was  having  liis  wine  and  reading  the 
evening  paper,  and  brought  a glass,  and  filled  it  for  good 
fellowship’s  sake. 

'‘My  dear  Moriimer,  you  arc  the  express  picture  of 


174 


OUE  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


contented  industry,  reposing  (on  credit)  after  the  virtuous 
labors  of  tlie  day.^^ 

My  clear  Eugene,  you  are  the  express  picture  of  dis- 
contented  idleness  not  reposing  at  all.  Where  have  you 
been 

I have  been,’^  replied  Wrayburn,  — about  tov\^n.  I 
have  turned  up  at  the  present  juncture  with  the  intention 
of  consulting  my  highly  intelligent  and  respected  solicitor 
on  the  position  of  my  affairs.” 

Your  highly  intelligent  and  respected  solicitor  is  of 
opinion  that  your  affairs  are  in  a bad  way,  Eugene.” 

Though  whether,”  said  Eugene,  thoughtfully,  that 
can  be  intelligently  said,  now,  of  the  affairs  of  a client 
who  has  nothing  to  lose  and  who  can  not  joossibly  be 
made  to  pay,  may  be  open  to  question.” 

“ You  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  Jews,  Eu- 
gene.” I 

My  dear  boy,”  returned  the  debtor,  very  composedly 
taking  up  his  glass,  having  previously  ffillen  into  the 
hands  of  some  of  the  Christians,  I can  bear  it  with  philo- 
sophy.” 

I have  had  an  interview  to-day,  Eugene,  with  a Jew, 
who  seems  determined  to  press  us  hard.  Quite  a Shy- 
lock,  and  quite  a Patriarch.  A picturesque  gray-headed 
and  gray-bearded  old  Jew,  in  a shovel-hat  and  gaber- 
dine.” 

“ Not,”  said  Eugene,  pausing  in  setting  down  his  glass, 
“ surely  not  my  worthy  friend  Mr.  Aaron  ?” 

He  calls  himself  Mr.  Riah.” 

By-the-by,”  said  Eugene,  ^^it  comes  into  my  mind 
that — no  doubt  with  an  instinctive  desire  to  receive  him 


OCil  MCTTUAL  FRIEND. 


175 


into  the  bosom  of  our  Church — I gave  him  the  name  of 
Aaron 

“ Eugene,  Eugene,”  returned  Lightwood,  you  are 
more  ridiculous  than  usual  Say  what  you  mean.” 

Merely,  my  dear  fellow,  that  I have  the  honor  and 
pleasure  of  a speaking  acquaintance  with  such  a Patriarch 
as  you  describe,  and  that  I address  him  as  Mr.  Aaron, 
because  it  appears  to  me  Hebraic,  expressive,  appropriate, 
and  corapllmentary  Notwithstanding  which  strong  rea* 
sons  for  its  being  his  name,  it  may  not  be  his  name.” 

I believe  you  are  the  absurdest  man  on  the  face  t)f 
the  earth,”  said  Lightwood,  laughing. 

‘'Not  at  all,  I assure  you.  Did  he  mention  that  he 
knew  me  ?” 

He  did  not.  He  only  said  of  you  that  he  expected 
to  be  paid  by  you.” 

‘‘  Which  looks,”  remarked  Eugene,  with  much  gravity, 
“ like  not  knowing  me.  I hope  it  may  not  be  my  worthy 
friend  Mr.  Aaron,  for,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Mortimer,  I 
doubt  he  may  have  a prepossession  against  me.  I strongly 
suspect  him  of  having  had  a hand  in  spiriting  away 
Lizzie.” 

“ Every  thing,”  returned  Lightwood,  impatiently, 
“ seems,  by  a fatality,  to  bring  us  round  to  Lizzie. 
‘About  town^  meant  about  Lizzie,  just  now,  Eugene.” 

“ My  solicitor,  do  you  know,”  observed,  Eugene,  turn- 
ing round  to  the  furniture,  “ is  a man  of  infinite  discern- 
ment !” 

“Did  it  not,  Eugene  ?” 

“ Yes  it  did,  Mortimer.” 

“ And  yet,  Eugene,  you  know  you  do  not  really  care 
hr  her.” 


176 


OUPv  MCTTUAL  FRIEND. 


Eugene  Wrayburn  rose,  and  put  liis  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  stood  with  a foot  on  tlie  fender,  indolently 
rocking  his  body  and  looking  at  the  fire.  After  a pro- 
longed pause  be  replied  : I doif t know  that.  I must 

ask  you  not  to  say  tliat,  as  if  we  took  it  for  granted.” 

“ But  if  you  do  care  for  her,  so  much  tlie  more  should 
you  leave  her  to  herself.” 

Having  again  paused  as  before,  Eugene  said  : “ I don’t 
know  that  either.  But  tell  me.  Did  you  ever  see  me 
take  so  much  trouble  about  any  thing  as  about  this  dis- 
appearance of  hers  ? I ask,  for  information.” 

“ My  dear  Eugene,  I wisii  I ever  had  !” 

Tlieu  you  have  not  V Just  so.  You  confirm  my  own 
impression.  Does  that  look  as  if  I cared  for  her  ? I ask, 
for  information,” 

I asked  you  for  information,  Eugene,”  said  Mortimer, 
reproachfully. 

Dear  boy,  I know  it,  but  I can’t  give  it.  1 thirst  for 
information.  What  do  I mean  ? If  my  taking  so  much 
trouble  to  recover  her  does  not  mean  that  I care  for  her, 
what  does  it  mean  ? ‘If  Peter  Piper  picked  a peck  of 
pickled  pepper,  where’s  the  peck,’  etc.  ?” 

Though  he  said  this  gayly,  he  said  it  with  a perplexed 
and  inquisitive  face,  as  if  he  actually  did  not  know  what 
to  make  of  himself.  “ Look  on  to  the  end — ” Light  wood 
was  beginning  to  remonstrate,  when  he  caught  at  tho 
words  : 

“ All  ! See  now  I That’s  exactly  what  I am  capable 
of  doing.  How  very  acute  you  are,  Mortimer,  in  finding 
my  weak  place  I When  we  were  at  sci)ool  together  I got 
up  my  lessons  at  the  last  moment,  day  by  day  and  bit  by 
bit ; now  \ve  are  out  in  life  together,  I get  up  my  lessons 


OUR  aiUTUAL  FRIEND. 


177 


in  the  same  wa^^  In  the  present  task  I haye  not  got 
beyond  this  : I am  bent  on  finding  Lizzie,  and  I mean  to 
find  her,  and  I will  take  any  means  of  finding  lier  that 
offer  themselves.  F.air  means  or  foul  means  are  all  alike 
to  me.  I ask  you — for  information — what  does  that 
mean  ? When  I have  found  her  I may  ask  you — also  for 
information — what  do  I mean  now  ? But  it  would  be 
premature  in  this  stage^  and  it’s  not  the  character  of  my 
mind.” 

Lightwood  was  vshaking  his  head  over  the  air  with 
•which  his  friend  held  forth  thus — an  air  so  whimsically 
open  and  argumentative  as  almost  to  deprive  what  lie 
said  of  the  appearance  of  evasion — when  a shuffling  was 
heard  at  tlie  outer  door,  and  then  an  undecided  knock,  as 
though  some  hand  were  groping  for  the  knocker.  ‘‘  The 
frolicsome  youth  of  the  neighborhood,”  said  Eugene, 

whom  I should  be  delighted  to  pitch  from  this  elevation 
into  the  church-yard  below,  without  any  intermediate 
ceremonies,  have  probably  turned  the  lamp  out.  I am  on 
duty  to-night,  and  will  see  to  the  door.” 

Hi-s  friend  had  barely  had  time  to  recall  the  unprece- 
dented gleam  of  determination  with  which  he  had  spoken 
of  finding  this  girl,  and  which  bad  faded  out  of  him  with 
the  breath  of  the  spoken  words,  when  Eugene  came 
back,  ushering  in  a most  disgraceful  shadow  of  a man, 
shaking  from  head  to  foot,  and  clothed  in  shabby  grease 
aMd  smear.  • 

“ This  interesting  gentleman,”  said  Eugene,  is  the 
son — tlie  occasionally  rather  trying  son,  for  he  has  his 
failings — of  a lady  of  my  acquaintance.  My  dear  Morti- 
mer— Mr.  Dolls.”  Eugene  bad  no  idea  what  his  name 
was,  knowing  the  little  dress-maker’s  to  be  assumed,  but 


ITS 


OUE  MUTUAL  FEIEND* 


presented  him  with  easy  confidence  under  the  first  appel- 
lation that  his  associations  suggested. 

“ I gather,  my  dear  M or  timer, pursued  Eugene,  as 
Lightwood  stared  at  the  obscene  visitor,  from  the  man- 
ner of  Mr.  Dolls — which  is  occasionally  complicated — that 
he  desires  to  make  some  communication  to  me.  I have 
mentioned  to  Mr.  Dolls  that  you  and  I are  on  terms  of 
confidence,  and  have  requested  Mr.  Dolls  to  develop  his 
views  here.^’ 

The  wretched  object  being  much  embarrassed  by  hold- 
ing what  remained  of  his  hat,  Eugene  airily  tossed  it  to 
the  door  and  put  him  down  in  a chair. 

It  will  be  necessary,  I think,^^  he  observed,  “ to  wind 
up  Mr.  Dolls  before  any  thing  to  any  mortal  purpose  can 
be  got  out  of  him.  Brandy,  Mr.  Dolls,  or — 
ThreepeniVorth  Rum,’^  said  Mr.  Dolls. 

A judiciously  small  quantity  of  the  spirit  was  given 
him  in  a wine-glass,  and  he  began  to  convey  it  to  his 
mouth  with  all  kinds  of  falterings  and  gyrations  on  the 
road. 

‘‘  The  nerves  of  Mr.  Dolls,’^  remarked  Eugene  to  Light- 
wood,  are  considerably  unstrung.  And  I deem  it  on 
the  whole  expedient  to  fumigate  Mr.  Dolls.^’ 

He  took  the  shovel  from  the  grate,  sprinkled  a few  live 
ashes  on  it,  and  from  a box  on  the  chimney-piece  took  a 
few  pastiles,  which  he  set  upon  them  ; then  with  great 
composure  began  placidly  waving  the  shovel  in  front  of 
Mr.  Dolls  to  cut  him  off  from  his  company. 

“ Lord  bless  my  soul,  Eugene  cried  Lightwood, 
laughing  again,  what  a mad  fellow  you  are  I Why 
does  this  creature  come  to  see  you 

We  shall  hear,^^  said  Wray  burn,  very  observant  of  his 


OUR  MUTUAL  B'RIEKD. 


179 


f^tce  withal.  Now  then.  Speak  out.  Don^t  be  afraid. 
State  your 'business,  Dolls.’^ 

Mist  Wrayburri  said  the  visitor,  thickly  and 
huskily.  — ^Tis  Mist  M^rayburn,  ain^t  A¥ith  a 

stupid  stare. 

Of  course  it  is.  Look  at  me.  What  do  you  want  T- 

Mr.  Dolls  collapsed  in  his  chair  and  faintly  said, 

Threepenn’orth  Rum  ” 

''  M^ill  you  do  me  the  favor,  niy  dear  Mortimer,  to 
wind  up  Mr.  Dolls  again  said  Eugene.  I am  occu- 
pied with  the  fumigation.” 

A similar  quantity  was  poured  into  his  glass,  and  he 
got  it  to  his  lips  by  similar  circuitous  ways.  Having 
drunk  it,  Mr.  Dolls,  with  an  evident  fear  of  running 
down  agaiii  unless  he  made  haste,  proceeded  to  business. 

•'‘Mist  Wrayburn.  Tried  to  nudge  you,  but  you 
wouldnT.  -You  want  that  drection.  You  want  t’know 
where  she  lives.  Do  you  Mist  Wrayburn  V' 

With  a glance  at  his  friend,  Eugene  replied  to  the 
question  sternly,  “ I do.” 

“ I am  er  man,”  said  Mr,  Dolls,  trying  to  smite  himself 
on  the  breast,  but  bringing  his  hand  to  bear  upon  the 
vicinity  of  his  eye,  “ er  do  it,  I am  er  man  er  do  it.” 

“ What  are  you  the  man  to  do  ?”  demanded  Eugene, 
still  sternly. 

“ Er  give  up  that  drection.” 

Have  you  got  it  ?” 

With  a most  laborious  attempt  at  pride  and  dignity, 
Mr.  Dolls  rolled  his  head  for  some  time,  awakening  the 
highest  expectations,  and  then  answered,  as  if  it  were  the 
happiest  point  that  could  possibly  be  expected  of  him  ; 

No.” 


180 


CUE  MUTUAL  FFJEND. 


''  What  do  you  mean  then 

Mr.  Dolls,  collapsing  in  the  drowsiest  manner  after 
his  late  intellectual  triumph,  replied  : “ Threepenii^orth 

Wind  him  up  again,  my  dear  Mortimer,^’  said  Wray* 
burn  ; “ wind  him  up  again.” 

Eugene,  Eugene,”  urged  Lightwood  in  a low  voice, 
as  he  complied,  “ can  you  stoop  to  the  use  of  such  an 
instrument  as  this  ?” 

I said,”  was  the  reply,  made  with  that  former  gleam 
of  determination,  tliat  I would  find  her  out  by  any 
means,  fair  or  foul.  These  are  foul,  and  I’ll  take  them — 
if  I am  not  first  tempted  to  break  the  liead  of  Mr.  Dolls 
with  a fiimigator.  Can  you  get  the  direction  ? Do  you 
mean  that  ? Speak  ! If  that’s  what  you  have  come  for, 
say  how  mucli  you  want.” 

‘‘  Ten  shillings — Threepenn’ortlis  Rum,”  said  Mr.  Dolls. 

You  shall  liave  it.” 

Fifteen  shillings — Threeperm’orths  Rum,”  said  Mr. 
Dolls,  making  an  attempt  to  stiffen  himself. 

“ You  sluill  have  it.  Stop  at  that.  How  will  you  get 
the  direction  you  talk  of?” 

I am  er  man,”  said  Mr.  Dolls,  with  majesty,  get 
it.  Sir.” 

How  will  you  get  it,  I ask  you  ?” 

“ I am  ill-used  vidiial,”  said  Mr.  Dolls.  Blown  up 
morning  thiight.  Called  names.  She  makes  Mint  money, 
Sir,  and  never  stands  Threepenn’orth  Rum.” 

Get  on,”  rejoined  Eugene,  tapping  his  palsied  head 
with  the  fire-shovel  as  it  sank  on  his  breast.  ^‘What 
comes  next  ?” 

Making  a dignified  attempt  to  gather  himself  together, 


OUK  MUTUAL  FKIEND. 


181 


but,  as  it  were,  dropping  half  a dozen  pieces  of  himself 
wliile  he  tried  in  vain  to  pick  up  one,  Mr.  Dolls,  swaying 
his  head  from  side  to  side,  regarded  his  questioner  with 
what  he  supposed  to  be  a haughty  smile  and  a scornful 
glance. 

‘‘  She  looks  upon  me  as  mere  child.  Sir.  I am  not  mere 
child.  Sir.  Man.  Man  talent.  Lerrers  pass  betwixt 
^ern.  Postman  lerrers.  Easy  for  man  talent  er  get  direc- 
tion as  get  his  own  direction.’’ 

Get  it  then,”  said  Eugene  ; adding  very  heartily 
under  his  breath,  — You  Brute  ! Get  it,  and  bring  it 
here  to  me,  and  earn  the  money  for  sixty  threepenn’orths 
of  rum,  and  drink  them  all,  one  atop  of  another,^  and 
drink  yourself  dead  with  all  possible  expedition.”  The 
latter  clauses  of  these  special  instructions  he  addressed  to 
the  fire,  as  he  gave  it  back  the  ashes  he  had  taken  from 
it,  and  replaced  the  shovel. 

Mr.  Dolls  now  struck  out  the  highly  unexpected  dis- 
covery that  he  had  been  insulted  by  Lightwood,  and 
stated  his  desire  to  “ have  it  out  with  him  ” on  the  spot, 
and  defied  him  to  come  on,  upon  the  liberal  terms  of  a sov- 
ereign to  a half-penny.  Mr.  Dolls  then  fell  a crying,  and 
then  exhibited  a tendency  to  fall  asleep.  This  last  man- 
ifestation as  by  far  the  most  alarming,  by  reason  of  its 
threatening  his  prolonged  stay  on  the  premises,  necessi- 
tated vigorous  measures.  Eugene  picked  up  his  worn-out 
hat  with  the  tongs,  clapped  it  on  his  head,  and,  taking 
him  by  the  collar — all  this  at  arm’s-length — conducted 
him  down  stairs  and  out  of  the  precincts  into  Fleet  Street. 
There,  he  turned  his  face  westward,  and  left  him. 

When  he  got  back,  Lightwood  was  standing  over  the 
fire,  brooding  in  a sufficiently  low-spirited  manner. 


182 


OUR  itUTUAL  FRIEND. 


ni  wash  my  hands  of  Mr.  Dolls — physically — said 
Eugene,  ‘‘  and  be  with  you  again  directly,  Mortimer.’^ 

would  much  prefer,’^  retorted  Mortimer,  ‘^your 
washing  your  hands  Of  Mr.  Dolls,  morally,  Eugene.’^ 

So  would  said  Eugene  ; but  you  see,  dear  boy, 
I can’t  do  without  him.” 

In  a minute  or  two  he  resumed  his  chair,  as  perfectly 
unconcerned  as  usual,  and  rallied  his  friend  on  having  so 
narrowly  escaped  the  prowess  of  their  muscular  visitor. 

I can’t  be  amused  on  this  theme,”  said  Mortimer,  rest- 
lessly. You  can  make  almost  any  theme  amusing  to  me, 
Eugene,  but  not  this.” 

Well,”  cried  Eugene,  “I  am  a little  ashamed  of  it 
myself,  and  therefore  let  us  change  the  subject.” 

“ It  is  so  deplorably  underhanded,”  said  Mortimer. 
^‘It  is  so  unworthy  of  you,  this  setting  on  of  such  a 
shameful  scout.” 

^‘We  have  changed  the  subject!”  exclaimed  Eugene, 
airily.  We  have  found  a new  one  in  that  word,  scout. 
Don’t  be  like  Patience  on  a mantle-piece  frowning  at 
Dolls,  but  sit  down,  and  I’ll  tell  you  something  that  you 
really  will  find  amusing.  Take  a cigar.  Look  at  this  of 
mine.  I light  it — draw  one  puff — breathe  the  smoke 
out ; there  it  goes — it’s  Dolls — it’s  gone — and  being 
gone,  you  are  a man  again.” 

Your  subject,”  said  Mortimer,  after  lighting  a cigar, 
and  comforting  himself  with  a whiff  or  two,  was  scouts, 
Eugene.” 

Exactly.  Isn’t  it  droll  that  I never  go  out  after  dark 
but  I find  myself  attended  always  by  one  scout,  and  often 
by  two  P’ 

Lightwood  took  his  cigar  from  his  lips  in  surprise,  and 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEHU. 


183 


looked  at  his  friend,  as  if  with  a latent  suspicion  that 
there  must  be  a jest  or  hidden  meaning  in  his  words. 

On  iny  honor,  no,^^  said  Wrayburn,  answering  the 
look  and  smiling  carelessly  ; “I  don^t  wonder  at  your 
supposing  so,  but  on  my  honor,  no.  I say  what  I mean* 
I never  go  out  after  dark  but  I find  myself  in  the  ludi- 
crous situation  of  being  followed  and  observed  at  a dis- 
tance, always  by  one  scout,  and  often  by  two.^^ 

Are  you  sure,  Eugene 

Sure  ? My  dear  boy,  they  are  always  the  same.’’ 
“But  there’s  no  process  out  against  you.  The  Jews 
only  threaten.  They  have  done  nothing.  Besides,  they 
know  where  to  find  you,  and  I represent  you.  Why  take 
the  trouble 

“ Observe  the  legal  mind  !”  remarked  Eugene,  turning 
round  to  the  furniture  again,  with  an  air  of  indolent  rap- 
ture. “ Observe  the  dyer’s  hand,  assimilating  itself  to 
what  it  works  in,  or  would  work  in,  if  any  body  would 
give  it  any  thing  to  do.  Eespected  solicitor,  it’s  not  that. 
The  schoolmaster’s  abroad.” 

“The  schoolmaster  ?” 

“ Ay  !-  Sometimes  the  schoolmaster  and  the  pupil  are 
both  abroad.  Why,  how  soon  you  rust  in  my  absence  I 
You  don’t  understand  }^et  ? Those  fellows  who  were  here 
one  night.  They  are  the  scouts  I speak  of,  as  doing  me 
the  honor  to  attend  me  after  dark,” 

“ How  long  has  this  been  going  on  ?”  asked  Light- 
wood,  opposing  a serious  face  to  the  laugh  of  his  friend. 

“ I apprehend  it  has  been  going  on  ever  since  a cer- 
tain person  went  off.  Probably  it  had  been  going  on 
some  little  time  before  I noticed  it  : which  would  bring 
it  to  about  that  time.” 


184 


OUB  MUTUAL  FKIEND. 


Do  you  think  they  suppose  you  to  have  inveigled  her 
away  ?” 

“ My  dear  Mortimer,  you  know  the  absorbing  nature 
of  my  professional  occupations  ; I really  have  not  bad 
leisure  to  think  about  it  ” 

“ Have  you  asked  them  what  they  want  ? Have  you 
objected 

“ Why  should  I ask  them  what  they  want,  dear  fellow, 
wdien  I am  indifferent  what  they  want  ? Why  should  I 
express  objection,  when  I don’t  object 

You  are  in  your  most  reckless  mood.  But  you  called 
the  situation  just  now  a ludicrous  one  ; and  most  men 
object  to  that,  even  those  who  are  utterly  indifferent  to 
every  thing  else.” 

“ You  charm  me,  Mortimer,  with  your  reading  of  my 
weaknesses.  (By-the-by,  that  very  word,  Reading,  in  its 
critical  use,  always  charms  me.  An  actress’s  Reading 
of  a chamber-maid,  a dancer’s  Reading  of  a hornpipe,  a 
singer’s  Reading  of  a song,  a marine-painter’s  Reading  of 
the  sea,  the  kettle-drum’s  Reading  of  an  instrumental 
passage,  are  phrases  ever  youthful  and  delightful.)  I 
was  mentioning  your  perception  of  my  weal^«esses.  I 
own  to  the  Weakness  of  objecting  to  occupy  a ludicrous 
position,  and  therefore  I transfer  the  position  to  the 
scouts.” 

I wish,  Eugene,  you  would  speak  a little  more  so- 
berly and  plainly,  if  it  were  only  out  of  consideration  for 
my  feeling  less  at  ease  than  you  do.” 

Then  soberly  and  plainly,  Mortimer,  I goad  the 
schoolmaster  to  madness.  I make  the  schoolmaster  so 
ridiculous,  and  so  aware  of  being  made  ridiculous,  that  I 
see  him  chafe  and  fret  at  every  pore  when  we  cross  one 
another.  The  amiable  occupation  has  been  the  solace  of 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


185 


my  life  since  I was  balked  in  the  manner  unnecessary  to 
recall.  I have  derived  inexpressible  comfort  from  it.  I 
do  it  thus : I stroll  out  after  dark,  stroll  a little  way, 
look  in  at  a window,  and  furtively  look  out  for  the  schoob 
master.  Sooner  or  later  I perceive  the  schoolmaster  on 
tiie  watch  ; sometimes  accompanied  by  his  hopeful  pupil, 
oftener  pupil-less.  Plaving  made  sure  of  his  watching 
mo,  I tempt  him  on,  all  over  London.  One  night  I go 
east,  another  night  north,  in  a few  nights  I go  all  round 
the  compass.  Sometimes  I walk  ; sometimes  I proceed 
in  cabs,  draining  the  pocket  of  the  schoolmaster  who  then 
follows  in  cabs.  I study  and  get  up  abstruse  JSio  Thor- 
oughfares in  the  course  of  the  day.  With  Yenetian  mys- 
tery I seek  those  jN'o  Thoroughfares  at  night,  glide  into 
them  by  means  of  dark  courts,  tempt  the  schoolmaster  to 
follow,  turn  suddenly,  and  catch  liim  before  he  can  re- 
treat. Then  we  face  one  another,  and  I pass  him  as 
unaware  of  his  existence,  and  he  undergoes  grinding  tor. 
ments.  Similarly,  I walk  at  a great  pace  down  a short 
street,  rapidly  turn  the  corner,  and,  getting  out  of  his 
view,  as  rapidly  turn  back.  I catch  him  coming  on  post, 
again  pass  him  as  unaware  of  his  existence,  and  again  he 
undergoes  grinding  torments.  Night  after  night  his  dis- 
appointment is  acute,  but  hope  springs  eternal  in  the 
scholastic  breast,  and  he  follows  me  again  to-morrow. 
Thus  I enjoy  the  pleasures  of  the  chase,  and  derive  great 
benefit  from  the  healthful  exercise.  Y/hen  I do  not  enjoy 
tiie  pleasures  of  the  chase,  for  any  thing  I know  he 
watches  at  the  Temple  Gate  all  night.^^ 

This  is  an  extraordinary  story, observed  Light- 
wood,  who  had  heard  it  out  with  serious  attention.  I 
dori^t  like  it.^^ 


188 


OVn  MUTUAL  FKIEND. 


You  are  a little  hipped,  dear  fellow,”  said  Eugene; 
^Wou  liave  beeu  too  sedentary.  Come  and  enjoy  the 
pleasures  of  the  chase.” 

Do  you  mean  that  you  believe  that  he  is  watching 
now  ?” 

I have  not  the  slightest  doubt  he  is.” 

“ Have  you  seen  him  to-night 

I forgot  to  look  for  him  when  I w’as  last  out,”  re- 
turned Eugene,  with  the  calmest  indifference ; but  I 
dare  say  he  was  there.  Come  ! Be  a British  sportsman, 
and  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  the  chase*  It  will  do  you 
good.” 

Lightwood  hesitated  ; but,  yielding  to  his  curiosity, 
rose. 

Bravo  !”  cried  Eugene,  rising  too.  Or,  if  Yoicks 
would  be  in  better  keeping,  consider  that  I said  Yoicks. 
Look  to  your  feet,  Mortimer,  for  we  shall  try  your  boots. 
When  you  are  ready,  I am — need  I say  with  a Hey  Ho 
Chivey,  and  likewise  with  a Hark  Forward,  Hark  For- 
ward, Tantivy  ?” 

^^Will  nothing  make  you  serious?”  said  Mortimer, 
laughing  througli  his  gravity. 

I am  alwa3^s  serious,  but  just  now  I am  a little  ex- 
cited by  the  glorious  fact  that  a southerly  wind  and  a 
cloudy  sky  proclaim  a hunting  evening.  Ready  ? So. 
We  turn  out  the  lamp  and  shut  the  door,  and  take  the 
held.” 

As  the  two  friends  passed  out  of  the  Temple  into  the 
public  street,  Eugene  deiiiauded  with  a show  of  courteous 
patronage  in  which  direction  Mortimer  would  like  the  run 
to  be?  There  is  a rather  difficult  country  about  Beth- 
nal Green,”  said  Eugene,  and  wu  have  not  taken  in  that 


i 


OUE  MUTUAL  FBIEKD.  187 

direction  lately.  What  is  your  opinion  of  Bethnal  Green  ?” 
Mortimer  assented  to  Bethnal  Green,  and  they  turned 
eastward.  Now,  when  we  come  to  St.  PauPs  church- 
yard,^- pursued  Eugene,  wehl  loiter  artfully,  and  1^11 
show  you  the  schoolinasteiV’  But  they  both  saw  him 
before  they  got  there  ; alone,  and  stealing  after  them  in 
the  shadow  of  the  houses  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way. 

“ Get  your  wind/'  said  Eugene,  for  I am  off  directly. 
Does  it  occur  to  you  that  the  boys  of  Merry  England  will 
begin  to  deteriorate  in  an  educational  light  if  this  lasts 
long  ? The  schoolmaster  can't  attend  to  me  and  the 
boys  too.  Got  your  wind  ? I am  off  1" 

At  what  a rate  he  Avent,  to  breathe  the  schoolmaster  ; 
and  how  he  then  lounged  and  loitered,  to  put  his  patience 
to  another  kind  of  wear  ; what  preposterous  ways  he 
took,  with  no  other  object  on  earth  than  to  disappoint 
and  punish  him  ; and  how  he  wore  him  out  by  every 
piece  of  ingenuity  that  his  eccentric  humor  could  devise  ; 
all  this  Lightwood  noted  Avith  a feeling  of  astonishment 
that  so  careless  a man  could  be  so  Avary,  and  that  so  idle 
a man  could  take  so  much  trouble.  At  last,  far  on  in 
the  tliird  hour  of  the  pleasures  of  the  chase,  Avhen  he  had 
brought  the  poor  dogging  wretch  round  again  into  the 
City,  he  tAvisted  Mortimer  up  a feAv  dark  entries,  twisted 
him  into  a little  square  court,  twisted  him  sharp  round 
again,  and  they  almost  ran  against  Bradley  Headstone. 

And  you  see,  as  I Avas  saying,  Mortimer,"  remarked 
Eugene  aloud  and  Avith  the  utmost  coolness,  as  though 
there  Avere  no  one  Avithin  hearing  but  themselves  : and 

you  see,  as  I Avas  saying — undergoing  grinding  torments." 

It  AAms  not  too  strong  a phrase  for  the  occasion.  Look- 
ing like  the  hunted  and  not  the  hunter,  baffled,  worn,  with 


188 


OHE  MUTUAL  FKIPuND. 


the  exhaustion  of  deferred  hope  and  consuming  hate  and 
anger  in  Lis  face,  white-iipped,  wild-eyed,  drnggle-haired, 
seamed  with  jealousy  and  anger,  and  torturing  himself 
with  the  conviction  that  he  showed  it  all  and  they  exulted 
in  it,  he  went  by  them  in  the  dark,  like  a haggard  head 
suspended  in  the  air  : so  completely  did  the  force  of  his 
expression  cancel  his  figure. 

Mortimer  Lightwood  was  not  an  extraordinarily  im- 
pressible man,  but  this  face  impressed  him.  He  spoke  of 
it  more  than  once  on  the  remainder  of  the  wmy  home, 
and  more  than  once  when  they  got  home. 

They  had  been  abed  in  their  respective  rooms  two  or 
three  hours  when  Eugene  was  partly  awakened  by  hear- 
ing a footstep  going  about,  and  was  fully  awakened  by 
seeing  Lightwood  standing  at  his  bedside. 

^‘Nothiiio*  wronc:,  Mortimer?*^ 

What  fancy  takes  yon,  then,  for  walking  about  in  the 
night 

^*1  am  horribly  wakeful.^^ 

How  comes  that  about,  I wonder 
Eugene,  I can  not  lose  sight  of  that  fellow^s  face,” 
Odd  !”  said  Eugene,  with  a light  laugh,  I can.” 
And  turned  over,  and  fell  asleep  again. 


OtIK  MUIUAL  FKIEKD. 


189 


CHAPTER  XL 

IN  THE  DARK. 

There  was  no  sleep  for  Bradley  Headstone  on  that 
night  when  Eugene  Wray  burn  turned  so  easily  in  his  bed; 
there  was  no  sleep  for  little  Miss  Peecher.  Bradley  con- 
&iiined  the  lonely  hours,  and  consumed  himself,  in  haunting 
the  spot  where  his  careless  rival  lay  a dreaming  ; little 
Miss  Peecher  wore  them  away  in  listening  for  the  return 
home  of  the  master  of  her  heart,  and  in  sorrowfully  pre- 
saging that  much  was  amjss  with  him.  Yet  more  was 
amiss  with  him  than  Miss  Peecher^s  simply-arranged  little 
workbox  of  thoughts,  fitted  with  no  gloomy  and  dark  re- 
cesses, could  hold.  For  the  state  of  the  man  was  mur- 
derous. 

The  state  of  the  man  was  murderous,  and  he  knew  it. 
More  : he  irritated  it  with  a kind  of  perverse  pleasure 
akin  to  that  winch  a sick  man  sometimes  has  in  irritating 
a wound  upon  his  body.  Tied  up  all  day  with  his  dis- 
ciplined show  upon  him,  subdued  to  the  performance  of 
his  routine  of  educational  tricks,  encircled  by  a gabbling 
crowd,  he  broke  loose  at  night  like  an  ill-tamed  wild  ani- 
mal. Under  his  daily  restraint  it  was  his  compensation, 
not  his  trouble,  to  give  a glance  toward  his  state  at  night, 
and  to  the  freedom  of  its  being  indulged.  If  great  cri- 
minals told  the  truth — which,  being  great  criminals  they 
do  not — they  would  very  rarely  tell  of  their  struggles 


190 


Otm  MOTtlAL  FKtEm 


against  the  crime.  Their  struggles  arc  toward  it.  They 
buffet  with  opposing  waves  to  gain  the  bloody  shore,  not 
to  recede  from  it.  This  man  perfectly  comprehended 
that  lie  hated  his  rival  with  his  strongest  and  worst  forces, 
and  that  if  he  tracked  him  to  Lizzie  Hexani  - his  so 
doing  would  never  serve  himself  with  her,  or  serve  her. 
All  his  pains  were  taken  to  the  end  that  he  might  in- 
cense himself  with  the  sight  of  the  detested  figure  in  her 
company  and  favor  in  her  place  of  concealment.  And  he 
knew  as  well  what  act  of  his  would  follow  if  he  did,  as  he 
knew  that  his  mother  had  borne  him.  Granted,  that  he 
may  not  have  held  it  necessary  to  make  express  mention 
to  himself  of  the  one  familiar  truth  any  more  than  of  the 
other. 

He  knew  equally  well  that  he  fed  his  wrath  and  hat- 
red, and  that  he  accumulated  provocation  and  self-justifi- 
cation by  being"  made  the  nig'htly  sport  of  the  reckless 
and  insolent  Eugene.  Knowing  all  this,  and  still  always 
going  on  with  infinite  endurance,  pains,  and  perseverance, 
could  liis  dark  soul  doubt  whither  be  went  ? 

Baffled,  exasperated,  and  weaiy,  he  lingered  opposite 
the  Temple  gate  when  it  closed  on  Wrayburn  and  Light- 
■wood,  debating  with  himself  should  he  go  home  for  that 
time  or  should  he  watch  longer.  Possessed  in  his  jeal- 
ousy by  the  fixed  idea  that  Wrayburn  was  in  the  secret, 
if  it  were  not  altogether  of  his  contriving,  Bradley  was  as 
confident  of  getting  the  better  of  him  at  last  by  sullenly 
sticking  to  him,  as  he  would  have  been — and  often  had 
been — of  mastering  any  piece  of  study  in  the  ivay  of  his 
vocation  by  the  like  slow,  persistent  process.  A man  of 
rapid  passions  and  sluggish  intelligence,  it  had  served  him 
often,  and  should  serve  him  again. 


OTJB  MUTUAL  FKIEKU. 


191 


The  suspicion  crossed  him  as  he  rested  hi  a doorway, 
with  his  eyes  upon  the  Temple  gate,  that  perhaps  she 
was  eren  concealed  in  that  set  of  ehambers.  It  would 
furnish  another  reason  for  Wrayburn^s  purposeless  walks, 
and  it  might  be.  He  thoug’^ht  of  it  and  thought  of  it, 
until  he  resolved  to  steal  up  the  stairs,  if  the  gate- 
keeper would  let  him  through,  and  listen.  So,  the  hag- 
gard head  suspended  in  the  air  flitted  across  the  road, 
like  the  spectre  of  one  of  the  many  beads  erst  hoisted  up- 
on neighboring  Temple  Bar,  and  stopped  before  the 
watchman. 

The  watchman  looked  at  it,  and  asked  r Who  for 
Mr.  rayburn.^^ 
lUs  very  late.-^^ 

*"He  came  back  with  Mr.  Lightw^ood,  I know,  near 
upon  two  ho-urs  ago.  But  if  be  has  gone  to  bed  Pll  put 
a paper  in  his  letter-box.  I am  expected.^^ 

Tlie  wmtdiman  said  no  more,  but  opened  the  gate, 
though  rather  doubtfully.  Seeing,  however,  that  the 
visitor  went  straight  and  fast  in  the  rigdit  direction,  he 
seemed  satisfied. 

The  haggard  head  floated  up  the  dark  staircase,  and 
softly  descended  nearer  to  the  floor  outside  the  outer  door 
of  the  chambers.  The  doors  of  the  rooms  within  appear- 
ed to  be  standing  open.  There  are  rays  of  candlelight 
from  one  of  them,  and  there  was  the  sound  of  a footstep 
going  about.  There  were  two  voices.  The  words  they 
uttered  were  not  distinguishable,  but  they  were  both  the 
voices  of  men.  In  a few  moments  the  voices  were  silent, 
and  there  was  no  sound  of  footstep,  and  the  inner  light 
went  out.  If  Liglitwood  could  have  seen  the  face  which 
kept  him  awake,  staring  and  listening  in  the  darkness  out- 


192 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


side  the  door  as  he  spoke  of  it,  he  might  have  been  less 
disposed  to  sleep  through  the  remainder  of  the  night. 

'‘Not  there,”  said  Bradley;  “but  she  might  have 
been.”  The  head  arose  to  its  former  height  from  the 
ground,  floated  down  the  staircase  again,  and  passed  on 
to  the  gate.  A man  was  standing  there  in  parley  with 
the  watchman. 

“ Oh  !”  said  the  watchman.  “ Here  he  is  !” 

Perceiving  himself  to  be  the  antecedent,  Bradley  looked 
from  the  watchman  to  the  man. 

“ This  man  is  leaving  a letter  for  Mr.  Lightwood,” 
the  watchman  explained,  showing  it  in  his  hand,  “and  I 
was  mentioning  that  a person  had  just  gone  up  to  Mr. 
Lightwood’s  chambers.  It  might  be  the  same  business, 
perhaps.” 

“No,”  said  Bradley,  glancing  at  the  man,  who  was  a 
stranger  to  him. 

“ No,”  the  man  assented  in  a surly  way  ; “ my  letter — 
it’s  wrote  by  my  daughter,  but  it’s  mine — is  about  my 
business,  and  my  business  ain’t  nobody  else’s  business.” 

As  Bradley  passed  out  at  the  gate  with  an  undecided 
foot,  he  heard  it  shut  behind  him,  and  heard  the  footstep 
of  the  man  coming  after  him. 

“ ’Scuse  me,”  said  the  man,  who  appeared  to  have  been 
drinking,  and  rather  stumbled  at  him  than  touched  him, 
to  attract  his  attention  ; “ but  might  you  be  acquainted 
with  the  T’other  Governor  ?” 

“ With  whom  ?”  asked  Bradley. 

“ With,”  returned  the  man,  pointing  backward  over  his 
right  shoulder  with  his  right  thumb,  “ the  T’other  Gov- 
ernor ?” 

“ I don’t  know  what  yoM  mean.’ 


4 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


193 


<<  Why  look  here/’  hooking  his  proposition  on  his  left- 
hand  fingers  with  the  forefinger  of  his  right.  There’s 
two  Governors,  ain’t  there  ? One  and  one,  two — Law- 
yer Lightwood,  my  first  finger,  he’s  one,  ain’t  he  ? Well ; 
might  you  be  acquainted  with  my  middle  finger,  the 
T’other  ?” 

I know  quite  as  much  of  him,”  said  Bradley,  with  a 
frown  and  a distant  look  before  him,  as  I want  to 
know.” 

Hooroar  !”  cried  the  man.  Hooroar,  T’other  t’ohei* 
Governor.  Hooroar  T’otherest  Governor  ! I am  of  your 
w'ay  of  think  in’.” 

Don’t  make  such  a noise  at  this  dead  hour  of  the 
night.  What  are  you  talking  about  ?” 

Look  here,  T’otherest  Governor,”  replied  the  man, 
becoming  hoarsely  confidential.  “ The  T’other  Governor 
he’s  always  joked  his  jokes  agin  me  owing,  as  I believe, 
« to  my  being  a honest  man  as  gets  my  living  by  the  sweat 
of  my  brow.  Which  he  ain’t,  and  he  don’t.” 

What  is  that  to  me  ?” 

T’otherest  Governor,”  returned  the  man,  in  a tone 
of  injured  innocence,  if  you  don’t  care  to  hear  no  more, 
don’t  hear  no  more.  You  begun  it.  You  said,  and  like- 
wise showed  pretty  plain,  as  you  warn’t  by  no  means 
friendly  to  him.  But  I don’t  seek  to  force  my  company 
nor  yet  my  opinions  on  no  man.  I am  a honest  man, 
that’s  what  I am.  Put  me  in  the  dock  any  where — I 
don’t  care  where — and  I says,  ^ My  Lord,  I am  a honest 
man.’  Put  me  in  the  witness-box  any  where — I don’t 
care  where — and  I says  the  same  to  his  lordship,  and  I 
kisses  the  book.  I don’t  kiss  my  coat-cuflf ; I kisses  the 
book.” 


194 


OTJR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


It  was  not  so  much  in  deference  to  these  strong  testi- 
monials to  character,  as  in  his  restless  casting  about  for 
any  way  or  help  toward  the  discovery  on  which  he  was 
concentrated,  tliat  Bradley  Headstone  replied;  *^You 
needn’t  take  offense.  I didn’t  mean  to  stop  you.  You 
were  too  loud  in  the  open  street  ; that  was  all.” 

T’otherest  Governor,”  replied  Mr.  Riderhood,  molli- 
fied and  mysterious,  I know  wot  it  is  to  be  loud,  and  I 
know  what  it  is  to  be  soft.  Nat’rally  I do.  It  would  be 
a wonder  if  I did  not,  being  by  the  Chris’en  name  of 
Roger,  which  took  it  arter  my  own  father,  which  took  it 
from  his  own  father,  though  which  of  our  fam’ly  fust  took 
it  nat’ral  I will  not  in  any  ways  mislead  you  by  under- 
takin’  to  say.  And  wishing  that  your  elth  may  be  better 
than  your  looks,  which  your  inside  must  be  bad  indeed, 
if  it’s  on  the  footing  of  your  out.” 

Startled  by  the  implication  that  his  face  revealed  too 
much  of  his  mind,  Bradley  made  an  effort  to  clear  his 
brow.  It  might  be  worth  knowing  what  this  strange 
man’s  business  was  with  Ligbtwood,  or  Wrayburn,  or 
both,  at  such  an  unseasonable  hour.  He  set  himself  to 
find  out,  for  the  man  might  prove  to  be  a messenger  be- 
tween those  two. 

You  call  at  the  Temple  late,”  he  remarked,  with  a 
lumbering  show  of  ease. 

Wish  I may  die,”  cried  Mr.  Riderhood,  with  a hoarse 
laugh,  “ if  I war  n’t  a-goin’  to  say  the  self-same  words  to 
you,  T’otherest  Governor  !” 

It  chanced  so  with  me,”  said  Bradley,  looking  discon- 
certedly  about  him. 

And  it  chanced  so  with  me,”  said  Riderhood.  “ But 
I don’t  mind  telling  you  how.  Why  should  I mind  tell- 


OVU  MtTTtJAL  FRIEND. 


195 


ing  you  ? I^m  a Deputy  Lock-keeper  up  the  river,  and  1 
was  off  duty  yes’day,  and  I shall  be  on  to-morrow.” 

“ Yes 

Yes,  and  I come  to  London  to  look  arter  my  private 
affairs.  My  private  affairs  is  to  get  appinted  to  the  Lock 
as  regular  keeper  at  first-hand,  and  to  have  the  law  of  a 
busted  Blow-Bridge  steamer  which  drownded  of  me*  I 
ain^t  a going  to  be  drownded  and  not  paid  for  it  1” 
Bradley  looked  at  him  as  though  he  were  claiming  to 
be  a ghost. 

^^The  steamer,”  said  Mr.  Riderhood,  obstinately  run 
me  down  and  drownded  of  me.  Interference  on  the  part 
of  other  parties  brought  me  round  ; but  1 never  asked 
^em  to  bring  me  round,  nor  yet  the  steamer  never  asked 
^em  to  it.  I mean  to  be  paid  for  the  life  as  the  steamer 
took.” 

'"Was  that  your  business  at  Mr.  Lightwood^s  cham- 
bers in  the  middle  of  the  night  ?”  asked  Bradley,  eyeing 
him  with  distrust. 

That  and  to  get  a writing  to  be  fust-hand  Lock- 
keeper.  A recommendation  in  writing  being  looked  for, 
who  else  ought  to  give  it  to  me  ? As  I says  in  the  letter 
in  my  daughter's  hand,  with  my  mark  put  to  it  to  make 
it  good  in  law.  Who,  but  you.  Lawyer  Lightwood,  ought 
to  hand  over  this  here  stifficate,  and  who  but  you  ought 
to  go  in  for  damages  on  my  account  agin  the  Steamer  ? 
Eor  (as  I says  under  my  mark)  I have  had  trouble  enough 
along  of  you  and  your  friend.  If  you.  Lawyer  Lightwood, 
had  backed  me  good  and  true,  and  if  the  Toother  Gov- 
ernor had  took  me  down  correct  (I  says  under  my  mark), 
I should  have  been  worth  money  at  the  present  time, 
instead  of  having  a barge-load  of  bad  names  chucked  at 


106 


OtJR  MUTtTAL  FltlENO. 


me,  and  being  forced  to  eat  my  words,  which  is  a unsat- 
isfying sort  of  food  wotever  a man’s  appetite  1 And  when 
you  mention  the  middle  of  the  night,  T’otherest  Gov- 
ernor,” growled  Mr.  iliderhood,  winding  up  his  monoton- 
ous summary  of  his  wrongs,  throw  your  eye  on  this  here 
bundle  under  my  arm,  and  bear  in  mind  that  Pin  a walk- 
ing back  to  my  Lock,  and  that  the  Temple  laid  upon  my 
line  of  road.” 

Bradley  Headstone’s  face  had  changed  during  this  lat- 
ter recital,  and  he  had  observed  the  speaker  with  a more 
sustained  attention. 

Do  you  know,”  said  he,  after  a pause,  during  which 
they  walked  on  side  by  side,  **  that  I believe  I could  tell 
you  your  name,  if  I tried  ?” 

Prove  your  opinion,”  was  the  answer,  accompanied 
with  a stop  and  a stare.  Try.” 

Your  name  is  Iliderhood.” 

‘‘I’m  blest  if  it  ain’t,”  returned  that  gentleman, 
“ but  I don’t  know  your’n.” 

“ That’s  quite  another  thing,”  said  Bradley.  “ I 
never  supposed  you  did.” 

As  Bradley  walked  on  meditating,  the  Eogue  walk- 
ed on  at  his  side  muttering.  The  purport  of  the  mut- 
tering wms : “ that  Eogue  Eiderhood,  by  George  1 
seemed  to  be  made  public  property  on,  now,  and  that 
every  man  seemed  to  think  himself  free  to  handle  his 
name  as  if  it  was  a Street  Pump.”  The  purport  of 
the  meditating  was  : “ Here  is  an  instrument.  Can 
I use  it  ?” 

They  had  walked  along  the  Strand,  and  into  Pall 
Mall,  and  had  turned  up-hill  toward  Hyde  Park  Cor- 
ner ; Bradley  Headstone  waiting  on  the  pace  and  lead 


OUE  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


197 


of  Eiderhood,  and  leaving  him  to  indicate  the  course. 
So  slow  were  the  schoolmaster's  thoughts,  and  so  in- 
distinct his  purposes  when  they  were  but  tributary  to 
the  one  absorbing  purpose — or  rather  when,  like  dark 
trees  under  a stormy  sky,  they  only  lined  the  long 
vista  at  the  end  of  which  he  saw  those  two  figures  of 
Wrayburn  and  Lizzie  on  which  his  eyes  were  fixed — 
that  at  least  a good  half-mile  was  traversed  before  he 
spoke  again.  Even  then,  it  was  only  to  ask  : 

“ Where  is  your  Lock 

Twenty  mile  and  odd — call  it  five* and-t wen ty  mile 
and  odd,  if  you  like — up  stream,’’  was  the  sullen 
reply. 

**  How  is  it  called  T’ 

Plashwater  Weir  Mill  Lock.” 

Suppose  I was  to  offer  you  five  shillings  ; what 
then 

‘‘  Why,  then,  Pd  take  it,”  said  Mr.  Eiderhood. 

The  schoolmaster  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and 
produced  two  half-crowns,  and  placed  them  in  Mr. 
Eiderhood’s  palm  : who  stopped  at  a convenient  door- 
step to  ring  them  both,  before  acknowledging  their 
receipt. 

“ There’s  one  thing  about  you,  T’otherest  Gover- 
nor,” said  Eiderhood,  faring  on  again,  as  looks  well 
and  goes  fur.  Your  a ready-money  m.an.  Now 
when  he  had  carefully  pocketed  the  coins  on  that  side 
of  himself  which  was  furthest  from  his  new  friend  ; 

what’s  this  for  ?” 

“ For  you.” 

“ Why,  o’  course  I know  said  Eiderhood,  as 

arguing  something  that  was  self-evident.  O’  course 


198 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


I know  very  well  as  no  man  in  his  right  senses  would 
suppose  as  any  think  would  make  me  give  it  up  agiu 
when  Pd  once  got  it.  But  what  do  you  want  for  it 
I don’t  know  that  I want  any  thing  for  it.  Or  if 
I do  want  any  thing  for  it,  I don’t  know  what  it  is.” 
Bradley  gave  this  answer  in  a stolid,  vacant,  and  self- 
communing  manner,  which  Mr.  Eiderhood  found  very 
extraordinary. 

“ You  have  no  good-will  toward  this  Wrayburn,” 
said  Bradley,  coming  to  the  name  in  a reluctant  and 
forced  way,  as  if  he  were  dragged  to  it. 

No.” 

“ Neither  have  I.” 

Eiderhood  nodded,  and  asked  : Is  it  for  that  ?” 

“ It’s  as  much  for  that  as  any  thing  else.  It’s  some- 
thing to  be  agreed  with,  on  a subject  that  occupies  so 
much  of  one’s  thoughts.” 

“ It  don’t  agree  with  you,'^^  returned  Mr.  Eiderhood, 
bluntly.  ‘‘  No  ! It  don’t,  T’otherest  Governor,  and 
it’s  no  use  a lookin’  as  if  you  wanted  to  make  out  that 
it  did.  I tell  you  it  rankles  in  you.  It  rankles  in  you, 
rusts  in  you,  and  pisons  you.” 

“ Say  that  it  does  so,”  returned  Bradley,  with  quiv- 
ering lips  ; Is  there  no  cause  for  it  ?” 

“ Cause  enough.  I’ll  bet  a pound  !”  said  Mr.  Eider- 
hood. 

“ Haven’t  you  yourself  declared  that  the  fellow  has 
heaped  provocations,  insults,  and  affronts  on  you,  or 
something  to  that  effect  ? He  has  done  the  same  by 
me.  He  is  made  of  venomous  insults  and  affronts, 
from  the  crown  of  his  head  to  the  sole  of  his  foot. 
Are  you  so  hopeful  or  so  stupid  as  not  to  know  that  he 


OUR  MUTUAL  'FRIEWD. 


199 


and  the  other  will  treat  your  application  with  contempt, 
and  light  their  cigars  with  it 

“ I shouldn't  wonder  if  they  did,  by  George  said 
Riderhood,  turning  angrily. 

If  they  did  ! They  will.  Let  me  ask  you  a ques^ 
tion.  I know  something  more  than  your  name  about 
you  ; I knew  something  about  Gaffer  Hexam.  When 
did  you  last  set  eyes  upon  his  daughter  V’ 

“ When  did  I last  set  eyes  upon  his  daughter, 
T^otherest  Governor  ?”  repeated  Mr.  Riderhood,  grow- 
ing intentionally  slower  of  comprehension  as  the  other 
quickened  in  his  speech. 

Yes.  Not  to  speak  to  her.  To  see  her — any 
where 

The  Rogue  had  got  the  clew  he  wanted,  though  he 
held  it  with  a clumsy  hand.  Looking  perplexedly  at 
the  passionate  face,  as  if  he  were  trying  to  work  out 
a sum  in  his  mind,  he  slowly  answered  : I ain’t  set 

eyes  upon  her — never  once — not  since  the  day  of  Gaf- 
fer’s death.” 

You  know  her  well,  by  sight  ?” 

I should  think  I did  ! No  one  better.” 

And  you  know  him  as  well  ?” 

Who’s  him  ?”  asked  Riderhood,  taking  off  his  hat 
and  rubbing  his  forehead,  as  he  directed  a dull  look  at  his 
questioner. 

“ Curse  the  name  ! Is  it  so  agreeable  to  you  that  you 
want  to  hear  it  again  ?” 

Oh  ! Him  ?”  said  Riderhood,  who  had  craftily 
worked  the  schoolmaster  into  this  corner,  that  he  might 
again  take  note  of  his  face  under  its  evil  possession.  I’d 
know  him  among  a thousand.” 


200 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRTE]S1>. 


Did  you — Bradley  tried  to  ask  it  quietly  ; but,  do 
what  he  might  with  his  voice,  he  could  not  subdue  his 
face  ; — “ did  you  ever  see  them  together  ?” 

(The  Dogue  had  got  the  clew  in  both  hands  now.) 

I see  ’em  together,  T’otherest  Governor,  on  the  very 
day  W'hen  Gaffer  was  towed  ashore.^’ 

Bradley  could  have  hidden  a reserved  piece  of  informa- 
tion from  the  sharp  eyes  of  a w'hole  inquisitive  class,  but 
he  could  not  veil  from  the  eyes  of  the  ignorant  lliderhood 
the  withheld  question  next  in  his  breast.  “You  shall 
put  it  plain  if  you  want  it  answered,”  thought  the  Rogue, 
doggedly  ; “ I ain’t  a-going  a wolunteering.” 

“ Weil ! was  he  insolent  to  her  too  ?”  asked  Bradley, 
after  a struggle.  “ Or  did  he  make  a show  of  being  kind 
to  her  ?” 

“ He  made  a show  of  being  most  uncommon  kind  to 
her,”  said  Riderhood.  “ By  George  ! now  I — ” 

His  hying  off  at  a tangent  was  indisputably  natural. 
Bradley  looked  at  him  for  the  reason. 

“Now  I think  of  it,”  said  Mr.  Riderhood,  evasively, 
for  he  w'as  substituting  those  wx)rd3  for  “Now  I see  you 
so  jealous,”  which  was  the  phrase  really  in  his  mind  ; 
“ PVaps  he  went  and  took  me  down  wrong,  a purpose, 
on  account  of  being  sweet  upon  her  !” 

The  baseness  of  confirming  him  in  this  suspicion  or  pre- 
tense of  one  (for  he  could  not  have  really  entertained  it), 
w^as  a line’s  breadth  beyond  the  mark  the  schoolmaster 
lad  reached.  The  baseness  of  communing  and  intriguing 
wdth  the  fellow  who  would  have  set  that  stain  upon  her, 
and  upon  her  brother  too,  was  attained.  The  line’s 
breadth  further  lay  beyond.  He  made  no  reply,  but 
W'alked  on  with  a lowering  face. 


OVU  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


201 


What  he  might  gain  by  this  acquaintance  he  could  not 
work  out  in  his  slow  and  cumbrous  thoughts.  The  man 
had  an  injury  against  the  object  of  his  hatfed,  and  that 
was  something  ; though  it  was  less  than  he  supposed,  for 
there  dwelt  in  the  man  no  such  deadly  rage  and  resent- 
ment as  burned  in  his  own  breast.  The  man  knew  her, 
and  might  by  a fortunate  chance  see  her,  or  hear  of  her; 
that  was  something,  as  enlisting  one  pair  of  eyes  and 
ears  the  more.  The  man  was  a bad  man,  and  willing 
enough  to  be  in  his  pay.  That  was  something,  for  his 
own  state  and  purpose  were  as  bad  as  bad  could  be, 
and  he  seemed  to  derive  a vague  support  from  the  posses- 
sion of  a congenial  instrument,  though  it  might  never 
be  used. 

Suddenly  he  stood  still  and  asked  Riderhood  point- 
blank  if  he  knew  where  she  was  V Clearly,  he  did  not 
know.  He  asked  Riderhood  if  he  would  be  willing,  in 
case  any  intelligence  of  her,  or  of  Wrayburn  as  seeking 
her  or  associating  with  her,  should  fall  in  his  way,  to 
communicate  itdf  it  v/ere  paid  for?  He  would  be  very 
willing  indeed.  He  was  agin  ^em  both,^^  he  said,  with 
an  oath,  and  for  why  ? * Cause  they  had  both  stood  be- 

twixt liim  and  his  getting  his  living  by  the  sweat  of  his 
brow. 

It  will  not  be  long  then,”  said  Bradley  Headstone, 
after  some  more  discourse  to  this  effect,  before  we  see 
one  another  again.  Here  is  the  country  road,  and  here 
is  the  day.  Both  have  come  upon  me  by  surprise.” 

But  T’otherest  Governor,”  urged  Mr.  Riderhood,  “I 
don’t  know  where  to  find  you.” 

It  is  of  no  consequence.  I know  where  to  find  you, 
and  ril  come  to  your  Lock.” 


202 


OTJB  MUTtTAL  FRIEKB. 


But  T^otherest  Governor,”  urged  Mr.  Riderhood 
again,  “ no  luck  never  come  yet  of  a dry  acquaintance. 
Let’s  wet  irin  a mouthful  of  rum  and  milk,  T’otherest 
Governor.” 

Bradley  assenting,  went  with  him  into  an  early  public 
house,  haunted  by  unsavory  smells  of  musty  hay  and  stale 
straw,  where  returning  carts,  farmer’s  men,  .gaunt  dogs, 
fowls  of  a beery  breed,  and  certain  human  night-birds 
fluttering  home  to  roost,  were  solacing  themselves  after 
their  several  manners  ; and  where  not  one  of  the  night- 
birds  hovering  about  the  sloppy  bar  failed  to  discern  at 
a glance  in  the  passion-wasted  night-bird  with  respecta- 
ble feathers,  the  worst  night-bird  of  all. 

An  inspiration  of  affection  for  a half-drunken  carter 
going  his  way  led  to  Mr.  Riderhood’s  being  elevated  on 
a high  heap  of  baskets  on  a wagon,  and  pursuing  his  jour- 
ney recumbent  on  his  back,  with  his  head  on  his  bundle. 
Bradley  then  turned  to  retrace  his  steps,  and  by-and- 
by  struck  off  through  little-traversed  ways,  and  by-and-by 
reached  school  and  home.  Up  came  the  sun  to  find  him 
washed  and  brushed,  methodically  dressed  in  decent  black 
coat  and  v^aistcoat,  decent  formal  black  tie,  and  pepper- 
and-salt  pantaloons,  with  his  decent  silver  watch  in  its 
pocket,  and  its  decent  hair-guard  round  his  neck  ; a scho- 
lastic huntsman  clad  for  the  field,  with  his  fresh  pack 
yelping  and  barking  around  him. 

Yet  more  really  bewitched  than  the  miserable  crea- 
tures of  the  much-lamented  times,  who  accused  themselves 
of  impossibilities  under  a contagion  of  horror  and  the 
strongly  suggestive  influences  of  Torture,  he  had  been 
ridden  hard  by  Evil  Spirits  in  the  night  that  was  newly 
gone.  He  had  been  spurred  and  whipped  and  heavily 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


203 


sweated.  If  a record  of  the  sport  had  usurped  the  places 
of  the  peaceful  texts  from  Scripture  on  the  wall,  the  most 
advanced  of  the  scholars  might  have  taken  fright  and 
run  away  from  their  master. 


204 


OITR  MUTUAL  FKTEND. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

MEANING  MISCHIEF. 

TJp  came  the  sim,  streaming  all  over  London,  and  in 
its  glorious  impartiality  even  condescending  to  make  pris- 
matic sparkles  in  the  whiskers  of  Mr.  Alfi;ed  Lammle  as 
he  sat  at  breakfast.  In  need  of  some  brightening 
from  without  was  Mr.  Alfred  Lammle,  for  he  had  the 
air  of  being  dull  enough  within,  and  looked  grievously 
discontented. 

Mrs.  Alfred  Lammle  faced  her  lord.  The  happy  pair 
of  swindlers,  with  the  comfortable  tie  between  them  that 
each  had  swindled  the  other,  sat  moodily  observant  of 
the  table-cloth.  Things  looked  so  gloomy  in  the  break- 
fast-room, albeit  on  the  sunny  side  of  Sackville  Street, 
that  any  of  the  family  tradespeople  glancing  through  the 
blinds  might  have  taken  the  hint  to  send  in  his  account 
and  press  for  it.  But  this,  indeed,  most  of  the  family 
tradespeople  had  already  done,  without  the  hint. 

^'It  seems  to  me,^^  said  Mrs.  Lammle,  “ that  you  have 
bad  no  money  at  all,  evei’  since  we  have  been  mar- 
ried. 

“ What  seems  to  yon,’^  said  Mr.  Lammle,  “ to  have 
been  the  case,  may  possibly  have  been  the  case.  It  doesnT 
matter.^^ 

Was  it  the  speciality  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lammle,  or  does 


OUB  ^rUTUAL  ITBTEKD. 


205 


it  ever  obtain  with  other  loving  couples  ? In  these  ma- 
trimonial dialogues  tliey  never  addressed  ea:ch  other,  but 
always  some  invisible  presence  that  appeared  to  take  a 
station  about  midway  between  them.  Perhaps  the  skele- 
ton in  the  cupboard  comes  out  to  be  talked  to  on  such 
domestic  occasions  ? 

“ I have  never  seen  any  money  in  the  house/ ^ said  Mrs. 
Laramie  to  the  skeleton,  except  my  own  annuity.  That 
I swear.” 

You  neednT  take  the  trouble  of  swearing,”  said  Mrs. 
Lammle  to  the  skeleton  ; once  more,  it  doesn^t  matter. 
You  never  turned  your  annuity  to  so  good  an  account.” 

“ Good  an  account  I In  what  way  ?”  asked  Mrs. 
Lammle. 

In  the  way  of  getting  credit,  and  living  well,”  said 
Mrs.  Lammle. 

Perhaps  the  skeleton  laughed  scornfully  on  being  in- 
trusted wdth  this  question  and  this  answer  ; certainly 
Mrs.  Lammle  did,  and  Mr.  Lammle  did. 

And  what  is  to  happen  next  ?”  asked  Mrs.  Lammle 
of  the  skeleton. 

“ Smash  is  to  happen  next,”  said  Mr,  Lammle  to  the 
same  authority. 

After  this,  Mrs.  Lammle  looked  disdainfully  at  the 
skeleton — but  without  carrying  the  look  on  to  Mr.  Lam- 
mle— and  drooped  her  eyes.  After  that,  Mr.  Lammle 
did  exactly  the  same  thing,  and  drooped  his  eyes.  A ser- 
vant then  entered  with  toast,  the  skeleton  retired  into 
the  closet,  and  shut  itself  up. 

“ Sophronia,”  said  Mr.  Lammle,  when  the  servant  had 
withdrawn.  .And  then,  very  much  louder : Sophro- 

nia 1” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


yo6 


Well 

Attend  to  me,  if  you  please.’^  He  eyed  her  sternly 
until  slie  did  attend,  and  then  went  on.  I want  to  take 
counsel  with  you.  Come,  come  ; no  more  trifling.  You 
know  our  league  and  covenant.  We  are  to  work  to- 
gether for  our  joint  interest,  and  you  are  as  knowing  a 
hand  as  I am.  We  shouldn't  be  together,  if  you  were 
not.  What’s  to  be  done  ? We  are  hemmed  into  a cor- 
ner. What  shall  we  do 

Have  you  no  scheme  on  foot  that  will  bring  in  any 
thing 

Mr.  Lammle  plunged  into  his  whiskers  for  reflection, 
and  came  out  hopeless  : No  ; as  adventurers  we  are 

obliged  to  play  rash  games  for  chances  of  high  winnings, 
and  there  has  been  a run  of  luck  against  us.’^ 

She  was  resuming,  Have  you  nothing — ” when  he 
stopped  her. 

‘‘  We,  Sophronia.  We,  we,  we.’’ 

Have  we  nothing  to  sell 

^VDeuce  a bit.  I have  given  a Jew  a bill  of  sale  on 
this  furniture,  and  he  could  take  it  to-morrow,  to-day, 
now.  He  would  have  taken  it  before  now,  I believe,  but 
for  riedgeby.” 

What  has  Fledgeby  to  do  with  him 

Knew  him.  Cautioned  me  against  him  before  I got 
into  his  claws.  Couldn’t  persuade  him  then,  in  behalf  of 
somebody  else.” 

Do  you  mean  that  Fledgeby  has  at  all  softened  him 
toward  you 

Us,  Sophronia.  Us,  us,  us.” 

Toward  us  ?” 

I mean  that  the  Jew  has  not  yet  done  what  he  might 


Otm  OTTXTAL  FRIEND. 


207 


have  done,  and  that  Fledgeby  takes  the  credit  of  having 
got  him  to  hold  his  hand/’ 

Do  you  believe  Fledgeby 

Sophronia,  I never  believe  any  body.  I never  have, 
my  dear,  since  I believed  you.  But  it  looks  like  it.” 
Having  given  her  this  back-handed  reminder  of  her 
mutinous  observations  to  the  skeleton,  Mr.  Lammle  rose 
from  table — perhaps,  the  better  to  conceal  a smile,  and  a 
white  dint  or  two  about  his  nose — and  took  a turn  on 
the  carpet  and  came  to  the  hearth-rug. 

If  we  could  have  packed  the  brute  off  with  Geor- 
gian a ; but  however,  that’s  spilled  milk.” 

As  Lammle,  standing  gathering  up  the  skirts  of  his 
dressing-gown  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  said  this,  looking 
down  at  his  wife,  she  turned  pale  and  looked  down  at 
the  ground.  With  a sense  of  disloyalty  upon  her,  and 
perhaps  with  a sense  of  personal  danger — for  she  was 
afraid  of  him — even  afraid  of  his  hand  and  afraid  of  his 
foot,  though  he  had  never  done  her  violence — she  hasten- 
ed to  put  herself  right  in  his  eyes. 

If  we  could  borrow  money,  Alfred — 

*^Beg  money,  borrow  money,  or  steal  money.  It 
would  be  all  one  to  us,  Sophronia,”  her  husband  struck 
in. 

<< — Then,  we  could  weather  this  ?” 

“ No  doubt.  To  offer  another  original  and  undenia- 
ble remark,  Sophronia,  two  and  two  make  four.” 

But,  seeing  that  she  was  turning  something  in  her 
mind,  he  gathered  up  the  skirts  of  his  dressing-gown 
again,  and,  tucking  them  under  one  arm,  and  collect- 
ing his  ample  whiskers  in  his  other  hand,  kept  his  eye 
upon  her,  silently. 


208 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


It  is  natural,  Alfred, she  said,  looking  up  with 
some  timidity  into  his  face,  to  think  in  such  an  emer- 
gency of  the  richest'  people  we  know,  and  the  sim- 
plest.” 

“ Just  so,  Sophronia.” 

The  Boffins.” 

Just  so,  Sophronia.” 

“ Is  there  nothing  to  be  done  with  them  ?” 

What  is  there  to  be  done  with  them,  Sophronia  ?” 

She  cast  about  in  her  thoughts  again,  and  he  kept 
his  eye  upon  her  as  before. 

“ Of  course  I have  repeatedly  thought  of  the  Boffins, 
Sophronia,”  he  resumed,  after  a fruitless  silence  ; ‘‘but 
I have  seen  my  way  to  nothing.  They  are  well  guard- 
ed. That  infernal  Secretary  stands  between  them  and 
• — people  of  merit.” 

“If  he  could  be  got  rid  of?”  said  she,  brightening  a 
little,  after  more  casting  about. 

“ Take  time,  Sophronia,”  observed  her  watchful 
husband,  in  a patronizing  manner. 

“ If  working  him  out  of  the  way  could  be  presented 
in  the  light  of  a service  to  Mr.  Boffin  ?” 

“ Take  time,  Sophronia.” 

“We  have  remarked  lately,  Alfred,  that  the  old 
man  is  turning  very  suspicious  and  distrustful.” 

“ Miserly,  too,  ray  dear  ; which  is  far  the  most  un- 
promising for  us.  Nevertheless,  take  time,  Sophronia, 
take  time.” 

She  took  time,  and  then  said  : 

“ Suppose  we  should  address  ourselves  to  that  ten- 
dency in  him  of  which  we  have  made  ourselves  quite 
sure.  Suppose  my  conscience — ” 


CUE  MUTOAL  FETEND. 


209 


And  we  know  what  a conscience  it  is,  my  soul. 
YesT 

Suppose  my  conscience  should  not  allow  me  to 
keep  to  myself  any  longer  what  that  upstart  girl  told 
me  of  the  Secretary's  having  made  a declaration  to  her. 
Suppose  my  conscience  should  oblige  me  to  repeat  it 
to  Mr.  Boffin.^’ 

“ I rather  like  that,”  said  Lammle. 

’ Suppose  I so  repeated  it  to  Mr.  Boffin,  as  to  in- 
sinuate that  my  sensitive  delicacy  and  honor — ” 

Very  good  words,  Sophronia,” 

— As  to  insinuate  that  our  sensitive  delicacy  and 
honor,”  she  resumed,  with  a bitter  stress  upon  the 
phrase,  would  not  allow  us  to  be  silent  parties  to  so 
mercenary  and  designing  a speculation  on  the  Secre- 
tary's part,  and  so  gross  a breach  of  faith  toward  his 
confiding  employer.  Suppose  I had  imparted  my  vir- 
tuous uneasiness  to  my  excellent  husband,  and  he  had 
said,  in  his  integrity,  * Sophronia,  you  must  immedi- 
ately disclose  this  to  Mr.  Boffin.^  ” 

Once  more,  Sophroiiia,”  observed  Lammle,  chang- 
ing the  leg  on  which  he  stood,  I rather  like  that.” 
You  remark  that  he  is  well  guarded,”  she  pursued. 

I think  so  too.  But  if  this  should  lead  to  his  dis- 
charging his  Secretary,  there  would  be  a weak  place 
made.” 

‘‘  Go  on  expounding,  Sophronia.  I begin  to  like 
this  very  much.” 

Having,  in  our  unimpeachable  rectitude,  done  him 
the  service  of  opening  his  eyes  to  the  treacheiy  of  the 
person  he  trusted,  we  shall  have  established  a claim 
upon  him  and  a confidence  with  him.  Whether  it  can 


210 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


be  made  much  of,  or  little  of,  we  must  wait — because 
we  can’t  help  it — to  see.  Probably  we  shall  make  the 
most  of  it  that  is  to  be  made.” 

Probably,”  said  Lammle. 

^‘Do  you  think  it  impossible,”  she  asked,  in  the 
same  cold  plotting  way,  that  you  might  replace  the 
Secretary 

Not  impossible,  Sophronia.  It  might  be  brought 
about.  At  any  rate  it  might  be  skillfully  led  up  to.” 

She  nodded  her  understanding  of  the  bint,  as  she 
looked  at  the  fire.  **  Mr,  Lammle,”  she  said,  musing- 
ly : not  without  a slight  ironical  touch  : “ Mr.  Lammle 
would  be  BO  delighted  to  do  any  thing  in  his  power. 
Mr.  Lammle,  himself  a man  of  business  as  well  as  a 
capitalist.  Mr.  Lammle,  accustomed  to  be  intrusted 
with  the  most  delicate  affairs.  Mr.  Lammle,  who  has 
managed  my  own  little  fortune  so  admirably,  but  who, 
to  be  sure,  began  to  make  his  reputation  with  the  ad- 
vantage of  being  a man  of  property,  above  temptation, 
and  beyond  suspicion.” 

Mr.  Lammle  smiled,  and  even  patted  her  on  the 
head.  In  his  sinister  relish  of  the  scheme,  as  he  stood 
above  her,  making  it  the  subject  of  his  cogitations,  he 
seemed  to  have  twice  as  much  nose  on  his  face  as  he 
had  ever  had  in  his  life. 

He  stood  pondering,  and  she  sat  looking  at  the 
dusty  fire  without  moving  for  some  time.  But  the 
moment  he  began  to  speak  again  she  looked  up  with 
a wdnee  and  attended  to  him,  as  if  that  double-dealing 
of  hers  had  been  in  her  mind,  and  the  fear  were  revi- 
ved in  her  of  his  hand  or  his  foot. 

It  appears  to  me,  Sophronia,  that  you  have  omit- 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


211 


ted  one  branch  of  the  subject.  Perhaps  not,  for  wo- 
men understand  women.  We  might  oust  the  girl  her- 
self?^' 

Mrs.  Lammle  shook  her  head.  She  has  an  im- 
mensely strong  hold  upon  them  both,  Alfred.  Not  to 
be  compared  with  that  of  a paid  secretary 

**  But  the  dear  child/’  said  Lammle,  with  a crooked 
smile,  ought  to  have  been  open  with  her  benefactor 
and  benefactress.  The  darling  love  ought  to  have  re- 
posed unbounded  confidence  in  her  benefactor  and 
benefactress.” 

Sophronia  shook  her  head  again. 

Well  ! Women  understand  women,”  said  her 
husband,  rather  disappointed.  I don’t  press  it.  It 
might  be  the  making  of  our  fortune  to  make  a plain 
sweep  of  them  both.  With  me  to  manage  the  property, 
and  my  wife  to  manage  the  people — Whew  !” 

Again  shaking  her  head,  she  returned  : ‘‘  They  will 
never  quarrel  with  the  girl.  They  will  never  punish 
the  girl.  We  must  accept  the  girl,  rely  upon  it.” 

Well  1”  cried  Lammle,  shrugging  his  shoulders, 
so  be  it : only  always  remember  that  we  don’t  want 
her.” 

Now  the  sole  remaining  question  is,”  said  Mrs. 
Lammle,  when  shall  I begin  ?” 

‘‘  You  can  not  begin  too  soon,  Sophronia.  As  I 
have  told  you,  the  condition  of  our  affairs  is  desperate, 
and  may  be  blown  upon  at  any  moment.” 

“ I must  secure  Mr.  Boffin  alone,  Alfred.  If  his 
wife  was  present,  she  would  throw  oil  upon  the  wa- 
ters. I know  I should  fail  to  move  him  to  any  angry 
outburst,  if  his  wife  was  there.  And  as  to  the  girl 


212 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


herself — as  I am  goin^  to  betray  her  confidence,  she 
is  equally  out  of  the  question.” 

It  wouldn’t  do  to  write  for  an  appointment  ?”  said 
Lammle. 

No,  certainly  not.  They  would  wonder  among 
themselves  why  I wrote,  and  I want  to  have  him 
wholly  unprepared.” 

‘‘  Call  and  ask  to  see  him  alone  ?”  suggested  Lammle. 

“ 1 would  rather  not  do  that  either.  Leave  it  to  me. 
Spare  me  the  little  carriage  for  to-day,  and  for  to- 
morrow (if  I don’t  succeed  to-day)  and  I’ll  lie  in  wait 
for  him.” 

It  was  barely  settled  when  a manly  form  was  seen 
to  pass  the  windows  and  heard  to  knock  and  ring. 
“ Here’s  Fledgeby,”  said  Lammle.  “ He  admires  you, 
and  has  a high  opinion  of  you.  I’ll  be  out.  Coax 
him  to  use  his  influence  with  the  Jew.  His  name  is 
Eiah,  of  the  House  of  Pubsey  and  Co.”  Adding  these 
words  under  his  breath,  lest  he  should  be  audible  in 
the  erect  ears  of  Mr.  Fledgeby,  through  two  keyholes 
and  the  hall,  Lammle,  making  signals  of  discretion  to 
his  servant,  went  softly  up  stairs. 

Mr.  Fledgeby,”  said  Mrs.  Lammle,  giving  him  a 
very  gracious  reception,  “ so  glad  to  see  you  ! My 
poor  dear  Alfred,  who  is  greatly  worried  just  now 
about  bis  affairs,  went  out  rather  early.  Dear  Mr. 
Fledgeby,  do  sit  down.” 

Dear  Mr.  Fledgeby  did  sit  down,  and  satisfied  him- 
self (or,  judging  from  the  expression  of  his  counte- 
nance, <;?issatisfied  himself)  that  nothing  new  had  oc- 
curred in  the  way  of  whisker-sprout  since  he  came 
round  the  corner  from  the  Albany. 


OVU  MUTUAL  FRIEKD. 


213 


Dear  Mr.  Fledgeby,  it  was  needless  to  mention  to 
you  that  my  poor  dear  Alfred  is  much  worried  about 
his  affairs  at  present,  for  he  has  told  me  what  a com- 
fort you  are  to  him  in  his  temporary  difficulties,  and 
what  a great  service  you  have  rendered  him  ” 

Oh  1^’  said  Mr.  Fledgeby. 

Yes,’’  said  Mrs.  Lammle. 

I didn’t  k;iow,”  remarked  Mr.  Fledgeby,  trying  a 
new  part  of  his  chair,  ‘‘  but  that  Lammle  might  be  re- 
served about  his  affairs.” 

Not  to  me,”  said  Mrs.  Lammle,  with  deep  feel- 
ing. 

Ob,  indeed  ?”  said  Fledgeby. 

Not  to  me,  dear  Mr.  Fledgeby.  I am  his  wife.” 

“ Yes.  I — I always  understood  so,”  said  Mr. 

Fledgeby. 

And  as  the  wife  of  Alfred,  may  I,  dear  Mr.  Fledge- 
by, wholly  without  his  authority  or  knowledge,  as  I 
am  sure  your  discernment  will  perceive,  entreat  you 
to  continue  that  great  service,  and  once  more  use  your 
well-earned  influence  with  Mr.  Eiah  for  a little  more 
indulgence  ? The  name  I have  heard  Alfred  mention, 
tossing  in  his  dreams,  is  Riah  ; is  it  not  ?” 

The  name  of  the  Creditor  is  Riah,”  said  Mr.  Fledge- 
by, with  a rather  uncompromising  accent  on  his  noun- 
substantive. Saint  Mary  Axe.  “^Pubsey  and  Go.” 

“ Oh  yes  1”  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lammle,  clasping  her 
hands  with  a certain  gushing  wildness,  Pubsey  and 
Co.  !” 

The  pleading  of  the  feminine — ” Mr.  Fledgeby  be- 
gan, and  there  stuck  so  long  for  a word  to  get  on 
with,  that  Mrs.  Lammle  offered  him  sweetly,  “ Heart  ?” 


214 


OVR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


No,”  said  Mr.  Fledgeby,  Gender — is  ever  what 
a man  is  bound  to  listen  to,  and  I wish  it  rested  with 
myself.  But  this  Eiah  is  a nasty  one,  Mrs.  Lammle  ; 
he  really  is.” 

Not  if  you  speak  to  him,  dear  Mr.  Fledgeby.” 

“ Upon  my  soul  and  body  he  is  I’’  said  Fledgeby. 
Try.  Try  once  more,  dearest  Mr.  Fledgeby.  What 
is  there  you  can  not  do,  if  you  will  I” 

Thank  you,”  said  Fledgeby,  ^*your  very  compli- 
mentary to  say  so.  I douT  mind  trying  him  again  at 
your  request.  But  of  course  I canT  answer  for  the 
consequences.  Kiah  is  a tough  subject,  and  when  he 
says  he^ll  do  a thing,  he^ll  do  it.’’ 

Exactly  so,”  cried  Mrs.  Lammle,  and  when  he 
mys  to  you  he’ll  wait,  he’ll  wait.” 

(“  She  is  a devilish  clever  woman,”  thought  Fledge- 
by. I didn’t  see  that  opening,  but  she  spies  it  out 
and  cuts  into  it  as  soon  as  it’s  made.”) 

In  point  of  fact,  dear  Mr.  Fledgeby,”  Mrs.  Lam- 
mle went  on  in  a very  interesting  manner,  not  to 
affect  concealment  of  Alfred’s  hopes,  to  you  who  are 
so  much  his  friend,  there  is  a distant  break  in  his 
horizon.” 

This  figure  of  speech  seemed  rather  mysterious  to 
Fascination  Fledgeby,  who  said,  There’s  a what  in 
his — eh  ?” 

‘‘  Alfred,  dear  Mr.  Fledgeby,  discussed  with  me  this 
very  morning  before  he  went  out  some  prospects  he 
has,  which  might  entirely  change  the  aspect  of  his 
present  troubles.” 

Really,”  said  Fledgeby. 

Oh  yes  !”  Here  Mrs.  Lammle  brought  her  hand- 


OVR  MUTUAL  FRIEKD. 


215 


kerchief  into  play.  And  you  know,  dear  Mr. 
Fledgeb}^ — you  who  study  the  human  heart  and  study 
the  world — what  an  affliction  it  would  be  to  lose  posi- 
tion and  to  lose  credit,  when  ability  to  tide  over  a 
very  short  time  might  save  all  appearances.^^ 

Oh  P said  Fledgeby.  ^‘Then  you  think,  Mrs. 
Lammle,  that  if  Lammle  got  time  he  wouldfflt  burst 
up  ? — To  use  an  expression,’^  Mr.  Fledgeby  apologet- 
ically explained,  which  is  adopted  in  the  Money 
Market.” 

“ Indeed  yes.  Truly,  truly,  yes  !” 

“ That  makes  all  the  difference,”  said  Fledgeby. 

ril  make  a point  of  seeing  Riah  at  once.” 

Blessings  on  you,  dearest  Mr.  Fledgeby  1” 

‘*Not  at  all,”  said  Fledgeby.  She  gave  him  her 
hand.  The  hand,”  said  Mr.  Fledgeby,  of  a lovely 
and  superior-minded  female  is  ever  the  repayment  of 
a—” 

**  Noble  action  I”  said  Mrs.  Lammle,  extremely  anx- 
ious to  get  rid  of  him. 

“ It  wasn’t  what  I was  going  to  say,”  returned 
Fledgeby,  who  never  would,  under  any  circumstances, 
accept  a suggested  expression,  ‘‘  but  you’re  very  com- 
plimentary. May  I imprint  a — a one — upon  it.  Good 
morning  I” 

“ I may  depend  upon  your  promptitude,  dearest  Mr. 
Fledpby  ?” 

Said  Fledgeby,  looking  back  at  the  door  and  respect- 
fully kissing  his  hand,  You  may  depend  upon  it.” 

In  fact,  Mr.  Fledgeby  sped  on  his  errand  of  mercy 
through  the  streets  at  so  brisk  a rate  that  his  feet 
might  have  been  winged  by  all  the  good  spirits  that 


216 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


wait  on  Generosity.  They  might  have  taken  up  their 
station  in  his  breast,  too,  for  he  was  blithe  and  merry. 
There  was  quite  a fresh  trill  in  his  voice,  when,  ar- 
riving at  the  counting-house  in  St.  Mary  Axe,  and 
finding  it  for  the  moment  empty,  he  trolled  forth  at 
the  foot  of  the  staircase  : Now,  Judah,  what  are  you 

up  to  there 

The  old  man  appeared,  with  his  accustomed  defer- 
ence. 

Holloa  I”  said  Fledgeby,  falling  back,  with  a wink. 

You  mean  mischief,  Jerusalem 

The  old  man  raised  his  eyes  inquiringly. 

Yes,  you  do,”  said  Fledgeby.  Oh,  you  sinner  ! 
Oh,  you  dodger  I What  I You’re  going  to  act  upon 
that  bill  of  sale  at  Lammle’s,  are  you  ? Nothing  will 
turn  you,  won’t  it  ? You  won’t  be  put  off  for  another 
single  minute,  won’t  you  ?” 

Ordered  to  immediate  action  by  the  master’s  tone 
and  look,  the  old  man  took  up  his  hat  from  the  little 
counter  where  it  lay. 

You  have  been  told  that  he  might  pull  through  it, 
if  you  didn’t  go  in  to  win,  Wide-Awake  ; have  you?” 
said  Fledgeby.  And  it’s  not  your  game  that  he 
should  pull  through  it  ; ain’t  it  ? You  having  got  se- 
curity, and  there  being  enough  to  pay  you  ? Oh,  you 
Jew  !” 

The  old  man  stood  irresolute  and  uncertain  for  a 
moment,  as  if  there  might  be  further  instructions  for 
him  in  reserve. 

Do  I go.  Sir  ?”  he  at  length  asked  in  a low  voice. 

“ Asks  me  if  he  is  going  !”  exclaimed  Fledgeby. 

Asks  me,  as  if  he  didn’t  know  bis  own  purpose ! 


OtTE  MUTUAL  FEIEND. 


217 


Asks  me,  as  if  lie  hadn’t  got  his  hat  on  ready  ! Asks 
me,  as  if  his  sharp  old  eye — why,  it  cuts  like  a knife 
— wasn’t  looking  at  his  walking-stick  by  the  door  !” 

“ Do  I go.  Sir  ?” 

“ Do  you  go  ?”  sneered  Fledgeby.  “ Yes,  you  do 
go.  Toddle,  Judah !” 


218 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

GIVE  A DOG  A BAD  NAME,  AND  HANG  HIM. 

Fascination  Fledgeby,  left  alone  in  the  counting- 
house,  strolled  about  with  his  hat  on  one  side,  whist- 
ling, and  investigating  the  drawers,  and  prying  hei’e 
and  there  for  any  small  evidences  of  his  being  cheat- 
ed, but  could  find  none.  “ Not  his  merit  that  he  don’t 
cheat  me,”  was  Mr.  Fledgeby’s  gpmmentary  delivered 
with  a wink,  “ but  my  precaution.”  He  then  with  a 
lazy  grandeur  asserted  his  rights  as  lord  of  Pubsey 
and  Co.  by  poking  his  cane  at  the  stools  and  boxes, 
and  spitting  in  the  fire-place,  and  so  loitered  royally 
to  the  window  and  looked  out  into  the  narrow  street, 
with  his  small  eyes  just  peering  over  the  top  of  Pub- 
sey and  Co.’s  blind.  As  a blind  in  more  sense  than 
one,  it  reminded  him  that  he  was  alone  in  the  counting- 
house  with  the  front  door  open.  He  was  moving  away 
to  shut  it,  lest  he  should  be  injudiciously  identified 
with  the  establishment,  when  he  was  stopped  by  some 
one  coming  in  the  door. 

This  some  one  was  the  dolls’  dress-maker,  with  a 
little  basket  on  her  arm,  and  her  crutch  stick  in  her 
hand.  Her  keen  eyes  had  espied  Mr.  Fledgeby  before 
Mr.  Fledgeby  had  espied  her,  and  he  was  paralyzed 
in  his  purpose  of  shutting  her  out,  not  so  much  by  her 


OUB  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


219 


approaching  the  door^  as  by  her  favoring  Uini  with  a 
shower  of  nods,  the  instant  he  saw  her.  This  ad- 
vantage she  improved  by  hol)bling  up  the  steps  with 
such  dispatch  that  before  Mr.  Fledgeby  could  take 
measures  for  her  finding  nobody  at  home,  she  was  face 
to  face  with  him  in  the  counting-house. 

Hope  I see  you  well,  Sir,’’  said  Miss  Wren.  “ Mr. 
Eiah  in  ?” 

Fledgeby  had  dropped  into  a chair,  in  the  attitude 
of  one  waiting  wearily.  ‘‘  I suppose  he  will  be  back 
soon,”  he  replied ; **  he  has  cut  out  and  left  me  expect- 
ing* him  back,  in  an  odd  way.  Haven’t  I seen  you  be- 
fore 

“ Once  before— if  you  had  your  eyesight,”  replied 
Miss  Wren  ; the  conditional  clause  in  an  under-tone. 

“When  you  were  carrying  on  some  games  up  at 
the  top  of  the  house.  I remember.  How’s  your 
friend  ?” 

“ I have  more  friends  than  one.  Sir,  I hope,”  replied 
Miss  Wren.  “ Which  friend  ?” 

“ Never  mind,”  said  Mr.  Fledgeby,  shutting  up  one 
eye,  “ any  of  your  friends,  all  your  friends.  Are  they 
pretty  tolerable  ?” 

Somewhat  confounded.  Miss  Wren  parried  the  plea- 
santry, and  sat  down  in  a corner  behind  the  door,  with 
her  basket  in  her  lap.  By-and-by,  she  said,  breaking 
a long  and  patient  silence  : 

“ I beg  your  pardon.  Sir,  but  I am  used  to  find  Mr. 
Eiah  at  this  time,  and  so  I generally  come  at  this 
time.  I only  want  to  buy  my  poor  little  two  shillings’ 
worth  of  waste.  Perhaps  you’ll  kindly  let  me  have  it, 
and  ITl  trot  off  to  my  work.” 


220 


OXJU  IVtUTUAL  FIttEND. 


1 let  you  have  it  said  Fledgeby,  turning  his 
head  toward  her ; for  he  had  been  sitting  blinking  at 
the  light,  and  feeling  his  cheek.  “ Why,  you  don’t 
really  suppose  that  I have  any  thing  to  do  with  the 
place,  or  the  business;  do  you  ?” 

Suppose  ?”  exclaimed  Miss  Wren.  He  said,  that 
day,  you  were  the  master  I” 

“ The  old  cock  in  black  said  ? Eiah  said  ? Why, 
he’d  say  any  thing.” 

Well  ; but  you  said  so  too,”  returned  Miss  Wren. 
Or  at  least  you  took  on  like  the  master,  and  didn’t 
contradict  him.” 

One  of  his  dodges,”  said  Mr.  Fledgeby,  with  a 
cool  and  contemptuous  shrug.  He’s  made  of  dodges. 
He  said  to  me,  ‘ Come  up  to  the  top  of  the  house,  Sir, 
and  I’ll  show  you  a handsome  girl.  But  I shall  call 
you  the  master.’  So  I went  up  to  the  top  of  the  house 
and  he  showed  me  the  handsome  girl  (very  well  worth 
looking  at  she  was),  and  I was  called  the  master.  I 
don’t  know  why.  I dare  say  he  don’t.  He  loves  a 
dodge  for  its  own  sake  ; being,”  added  Mr.  Fledgeby, 
after  casting  about  for  an  expressive  phrase,  the 
dodgerest  of  all  the  dodgers.” 

“ Oh  my  head  !”  cried  the  dolls’  dress-maker,  hold- 
ing it  with  both  her  hands,  as  if  it  were  cracking* 
You  can’t  mean  what  you  say.” 

I can,  my  little  woma*i,”  retorted  Fledgeby,  **  and  I 
do,  I assure  you.” 

This  repudiation  was  not  only  an  act  of  deliberate  pol- 
icy on  Fledgeby’s  part,  in  case  of  his  being  surprised  by 
any  other  caller,  but  was  also  a retort  upon  Miss  Wren 
for  her  over-sharpness,  and  a pleasant  instance  of  his  hu- 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


221 


mor  as  regarded  the  old  Jew.  He  has  got  a bad  name  as 
an  old  Jew,  and  he  is  paid  for  the  use  of  it,  and  Til  have 
my  money worth  out  of  him.’^  This  was  Fledgeby^s  ha- 
bitual reflection  in  the  way  of  business,  and  it  was  sharp- 
ened just  now  by  the  old  maifls  presuming  to  have  a 
secret  from  him  : though  of  the  secret  itself,  as  annoying 
somebody  else  whom  he  disliked,  he  by  no  means  disap- 
proved. 

Miss  Wren,  with  a fallen  countenance,  sat  behind  the 
door  looking  thoughtfully  at  the  ground,  and  the  long 
and  patient  silence  had  again  set  in  for  some  time,  when 
the  expression  of  Mr.  Fledgeby’s  face  betokened  that 
through  the  upper  portion  of  the  door,  which  was  of 
glass,  he  saw  some  one  faltering  on  the  brink  of  the 
counting  house.  Presently  there  was  a rustle  and  a tap, 
and  then  some  more  rustling  and  another  tap.  Fledgeby 
taking  no  notice,  the  door  was  at  length  softly  opened, 
and  the  dried  face  of  a mild  little  elderly  gentleman 
looked  in. 

Mr.  Riah  V’  said  this  visitor,  very  politely. 

I am  waiting  for  him,  Sir,^^  returned  Mr.  Fledgeby. 

He  went  out  and  left  me  here.  I expect  him  back 
every  minute.  Perhaps  you  had  better  take  a chair.^^ 

The  gentleman  took  a chair,  and  put  his  hand  to  his 
forehead,  as  if  he  were  in  a melancholy  frame  of  mind. 
Mr.  Fledgeby  eyed  him  aside,  and  seemed  to  relish  his 
attitude. 

A fine  day,  Sir,^^  remarked  Fledgeby. 

The  little  dried  gentleman  was  so  occupied  with 
his  own  depressed  reflections,  that  he  did  not  notice  the 
remark  until  the  sound  of  Mr.  Fledgeby^s  voice  had 
died  out  of  the  counting-house.  Then  he  started,  and 


222 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


said  : I beg  your  pardon,  Sir.  I fear  you  spoke  to 

me 

I said,^^  remarked  Fledgeby,  a little  louder  than  be- 
fore, it  was  a fine  day.” 

“I  beg  your  pardon.  I beg  your  pardon.  Yes.” 
Again  the  little  dried  gentleman  put  his  hand  to  his 
forehead,  and  again  Mr.  Fledgeby  seemed  to  enjoy  his 
doing  it.  When  the  gentleman  changed  his  attitude,  with 
a sigh,  Fledgeby  spake,  with  a grin. 

^^Mr.  Twemlow,  I think  ?” 

The  dried  gentleman  seemed  much  surprised. 

Had  the  pleasure  of  dining  with  you  at  Lammle^s,” 
said  Fledgeby.  “ Even  have  the  honor  of  being  a con- 
nection of  yours.  An  unexpected  sort  of  place  this  to 
meet  in  ; but  one  never  knows,  when  one  gets  into  the  City, 
what  people  one  may  knock  up  against.  I hope  you  have 
your  health,  and  are  enjoying  yourself.” 

There  might  have  been  a touch  of  impertinence  in  the 
last  words  ; on  the  other  hand,  it  might  have  been  but 
the  native  grace  of  Mr.  Fledgeby^s  manner.  Mr.  Fledge- 
by sat  on  a stool  with  a foot  on  the  rail  of  another  stool, 
and  his  hat  on.  Mr.  Twemlow  had  uncovered  on  looking 
in  at  the  door,  and  remained  so. 

ISTow,  the  conscientious  Twemlow,  knowing  what  he 
had  done  to  thwart  the  gracious  Fledgeby,  was  particu- 
larly disconcerted  by  this  encounter.  He  was  as  ill  at 
ease  as  a gentleman  well  could  be.  He  felt  himself  bound 
to  conduct  himself  stiffly  toward  Fledgeby,  and  he  made 
him  a distant  bow.  Fledgeby  made  his  small  eyes  small- 
er in  taking  special  note  of  his  manner.  The  dolls’  dress- 
maker sat  in  her  corner  behind  the  door,  with  her  eyes  on 
the  ground  and  her  haniks  folded  on  her  basket,  holding 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


223 


her  crutch-stick  between  them,  and  appearing  to  take  no 
heed  of  any  thing. 

He’s  a long  time,”  muttered  Mr.Fledgeby,  looking  at 
his  watch.  What  time  may  you  make  it,  Mr.  Twem^ 
low 

Mr.  Twemlow  made  it  ten  minutes  past  twelve,  Sir. 

* As  near  as  a toucher,”  assented  Fledgeby.  I hope, 
Mr.  Twemlow,  your  business  here  may  be  of  a more 
agreeable  character  than  mine.” 

Tiiank  you.  Sir,”  said  Mr.  Twemlow. 

Fledgeby  again  made  his  small  eyes  smaller,  as  he 
glanced  with  great  complacency  at  Twemlow,  who  was 
timorously  tapping  the  table  with  a folded  letter. 

What  I know  of  Mr.  Riah,”  said  Fledgeby,  with  a 
very  disparaging  utterance  of  his  name,  leads  me  to  be- 
lieve that  this  is  about  the  shop  for  disagreeable  business. 
I have  always  found  him  the  bitingest  and  tightest  screw 
in  London.” 

Mr.  Twemlow  acknowledged  the  remark  with  a little 
distant  bow.  It  evidently  made  him  nervous. 

So  much  so,”  pursued  Fledgeby,  “ that  if  it  wasn’t  to 
be  true  to  a friend,  nobody  should  catch  me  waiting  here 
a single  minute.  But  if  you  have  friends  in  adversity, 
stand  by  them.  That’s  what  I say  and  act  up  to.” 

The  equitable  Twemlow  felt  that  this  sentiment,  irre- 
spective of  the  utterer,  demanded  his  cordial  assent. 

You  are  very  right,  Sir,”  he  rejoined  with  spirit.  You 
indicate  the  generous  and  manly  course.” 

Glad  to  have  your  approbation,”  returned  Fledgeby. 

It’s  a coincidence,  Mr.  Twemlow  here  he  descended 
from  bis  perch,  and  sauntered  toward  him  ; “ that  the 
friends  I am  standing  by  to-day  are  the  friends  at  whose 


224 


OITR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


house  I met  you  ! The  Lammles.  She^«  a very  taking 
and  agreeable  woman 

Conscience  smote  the  gentle  Twemlow  pale.  Yes/^ 
he  said.  She  is.” 

“ And  when  she  appealed  to  me  this  morning,  to  come 
and  try  what  I could  do  to  pacify  their  creditor,  this  Mr. 
Riah — that  I certainly  have  gained  some  little  influence 
with  in  transacting  business  for  another  friend,  but  noth- 
ing like  so  much  as  she  supposes — and  when  a woman 
like  that  spoke  to  me  as  her  dearest  Mr.  Fledgeby,  and 
shed  tears — why  what  could  I do,  you  know 

Twemlow  gasped  Nothing  but  come.” 

Nothing  but  come.  And  so  I came.  But  why,”  said 
Peldgeby,  putting  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  counter- 
feiting deep  meditation,  why  Riah  should  have  started 
up,  wlien  I told  him  that  the  Lammles  entreated  him  to 
hold  over  a Bill  of  Sale  he  has  on  all  their  effects  ; and 
v/hy  he  should  have  cat  out,  saying  he  would  be  back 
directly  ; and  why  he  should  have  left  me  here  alone  so 
long,  I cannot  understand.” 

The  chivalrous  Twemlow,  Knight  of  the  Simple  Heart, 
was  not  in  a condition  to  offer  any  suggestion.  He  was 
too  penitent,  too  remorseful.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life 
he  had  done  an  underhanded  action,  and  he  had  done 
wrong.  He  had  secretly  interposed  against  this  confid- 
ing young  man,  for  no  better  real  reason  than  because 
the  young  maffs  ways  were  not  his  ways. 

But,  the  confiding  young  man  proceeded  to  heap  coals 
of  fire  on  his  sensitive  head. 

‘‘  I beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Twemlow  ; you  see  I 
am  acquainted  with  the  nature  of  the  affairs  that  are 
transacted  here.  Is  there  any  thing  1 can  do  for  you 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


^25 


here  ? You  liave  always  been  brought  up  as  a gentle- 
man, and  never  as  a man  of  business  f another  touch  of 
possible  impertinence  in  this  place  ; and  perhaps  you  are 
but  a poor  man  of  business.  What  else  is  to  be  ex- 
pected 

I am  even  a poorer  man  of  business  than  I am  a 
man,  Sir,^^  returned  Tv/emlow,  and  I could  hardly  ex- 
press my  deficiency  in  a stronger  way.  I really  do  not 
so  much  as  clearly  understand  my  position  in  the  matter 
on  which  I am  brought  here.  But  there  are  reasons 
which  make  me  very  delicate  of  accepting  your  assistance. 
I am  greatly,  greatly  disinclined  to  profit  by  it.  I don^t 
deserve  it.^^ 

Good  childish  creature  ! Condemned  to  a passage- 
through  the  world  by  such  narrow  little  dimly-lighted 
ways,  and  picking  up  such  few  spects  or  spots  on  tho 
road  ! 

Perhaps,’^  said  Pledgeby,  You  maybe  a little  proud 
of  entering  on  the  topic — having  been  brought  up  as  a 
gentleraan.^^ 

IPs  not  that,  Sir,’^  returned  Twemlow,  iPs  not  that. 
I hope  I distinguish  between  true  pride  and  false  pride.^^ 

I have  no  pride  at  all,  myself,’^  said  Fledgeby,  and 
perhaps  I dont  cut  things  so  fine  as  to  know  one  from 
Pother.  But  I know  this  is  a place  where  even  a man 
of  business  needs  his  wits  about  him  ; and  if  mine  can  be 
of  any  use  to  you  here,  you’re  welcome  to  them.” 

“ You  are  very  good,”  said  Twemlow,  faltering.  But 
I am  most  unwilling — ” 

“ I don’t,  you  know,”  proceeded  Fledgeby,  with  an  ill- 
favored  glance,  ‘‘  entertain  the  vanity  of  supoosing  that 
my  wits  could  be  of  any  use  to  j^n  in  society,  but  they 


226  ovn  MUTUAL  umuisrD. 

might  be  here.  You  cultivate  society,  and  society  cultb 
vates  you,  but  Mr.  Riah’s  not  society.  In  society,  Mr. 
Riah  is  kept  dark  • eh,  Mr.  Twemlow 

Tweinlow  much  disturbed,  and  with  his  hand  fluttering 
about  his  forehead,  replied  : “ Quite  true.’^ 

The  confiding  young  man  besought  him  to  state  his 
case.  The  Innocent  Twemlow,  expecting  FJedgeby  to  be 
astonished  by  what  he  should  unfold,  and  not  for  an  in- 
stant conceiving  the  possibility  of  its  happening  every  day 
but  treating  of  it  as  a terrible  phenomenon  occurring  in  the 
course  of  ages,  related  how  that  he  had  had  a deceased 
friend,  a married  civil  officer  with  a family,  who  had 
Wanted  money  for  change  of  place  on  change  of  post,  and 
how  he,  Twemlow,  had  “given  him  his  name,^^  with 
the  usual,  but  in  the  eyes  of  Twemlow  almost  incredible 
result  that  he  had  been  left  to  repay  what  he  had  never 
had.  How,  in  the  course  of  years,  he  had  reduced  the 
principal  by  trifling  sums,  “having,’’  said  Twemlow,  “ al- 
ways to  observe  great  economy,  being  in  the  enjoyment 
of  a fixed  income  limited  in  extent,  and  that  depending 
on  the  munificence  of  a certain  nobleman,”  and  had  al- 
ways pinched  the  full  interest  out  of  himself  with  punc- 
tual pinches.  How  he  had  come,  in  the  course  of  time, 
to  look  upon  this  one  only  debt  of  his  life  as  a regular 
quarterly  drawback,  and  no  worse,  when  “ his  name  ” 
had  some  way  fallen  into  the  possession  of  Mr.  Riah,  who 
had  sent  him  notice  to  redeem  it  by  paying  up  in  full,  in 
one  plump  sum,  or  take  tremendous  consequences.  This, 
with  liazy  remembrances  of  how  he  had  been  carried  to 
some  office  to  “confess  judgment”  (as  he  recollected  the 
phrase),  and  how  he  had  been  carried  to  another  office 
where  his  life  was  assured  for  somebody  not  wholly  un- 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


227 


connected  with  the  sherry  trade  whom  he  remembered  by 
the  remarkable  circumstance  that  he  had  a Straduarius 
violin  to  dispose  of,  and  also  a Madonna,  formed  the  sum 
and  substance  of  Mr.  Twemlow’s  narrative.  Through  which 
stalked  the  shadow  of  the  awful  Snigsworth,  eyed  afar 
off  by  money-lenders  as  Security  in  the  Mist,  and  menac- 
ing Twemlovv  with  his  baronial  truncheon. 

To  all,  Mr.  Fledgeby  listened  with  the  modest  gravity 
becoming  a confiding  young  man  who  knew  it  all  before- 
hand, and,  when  it  was  finished,  seriously  shook  his  head. 

I douT  like,  Mr.  Twemlow,’^  said  Fledgeby  I donT 
like  Kialfis  calling  in  the  principal.  If  he^s  determined 
to  call  it  in,  it  must  come.’^ 

But  supposing.  Sir,”  said  Twemlow,  downcast,  that 
it  canT  come  ?” 

'‘Then,”  retorted  Fledgeby,  you  must  go,  you  know.” 

" Where  ?”  asked  Twemlow  faintly. 

" To  prison,”  returned  Fledgeby.  Whereat  Mr.  Twem- 
low leaned  his  innocent  head  upon  his  hand,  and  moaned 
a little  moan  of  distress  and  disgrace. 

“ However,”  said  Fledgeby,  appearing  to  pluck  up  his 
spirits,  " wedl  hope  it’s  not  so  bad  as  that  comes  to.  If 
you’ll  allow  me.  I’ll  mention  to  Mr.  Riah  when  he 
comes  in,  who  you  are,  and  I’ll  tell  him  you’re  my  friend, 
and  I’ll  say  my  say  for  you,  instead  of  your  saying  it  for 
yourself ; I may  be  able  to  do  it  in  a more  business-like 
way.  Y'ou  won’t  consider  it  a liberty  ?” 

“ I thank  you  again  and  again.  Sir,”  said  Twemlow. 
"I  am  strong,  strongly,  disinclined  to  avail  myself  of 
your  generosity,  though  my  helplessness  yields.  For  I 
can  not  but  feel  that  I — to  put  it  in  the  mildest  form  of 
speech — that  I have  dene  nothing  to  deserve  it.” 


228 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


Where  can  he  be  muttered  Fledgeby,  referring  to 
watch  again.  “ What  can  he  have  gone  out  for  ? Did 
you  ever  see  him,  M,r.  Twemlow 

Never.’^ 

He  is  a thorough  Jew  to  look  at,  but  he  is  a more 
thorough  Jew  to  deal  with.  He^s  worst  when  he^s  quiet. 
If  he^s  quiet,  I shall  take  it  as  a very  bad  sign.  Keep 
your  eye  upon  him  when  he  comes  in,  and,  if  he^s  quiet, 
don’t  be  hopeful.  Here  he  is  ! — lie  looks  quiet.” 

With  these  words,  which  had  the  effect  of  causing  the 
harmless  Twemlow  painful  agitation,  Mr.  Fledgeby  with- 
drew to  his  former  post,  and  the  old  man  entered  the 
counting-house. 

^M¥hy  Mr.  Kiah,”  said  Fledgeby,  thought  you 
were  lost !” 

The  old  man  glancing  at  the  stranger,  stood  stock-still. 
He  perceived  that  his  master  was  leading  up  to  the  or- 
ders he  was  to  take,  and  he  waited  to  understand  them. 

I really  thought,”  repeated  Fledgeby  slowly,  that 
you  were  lost,  Mr.  Riah.  W^hy,  now  I look  at  you — but 
no,  you  canT  have  done  it  ; no,  you  can’t  have  done  it  !” 

Hat  in  hand,  the  old  man  lifted  his  head,  and  looked 
distressfully  at  Fledgeby,  as  seeking  to  know  what  new 
moral  burden  he  was  to  bear. 

You  can’t  have  rushed  out  to  get  the  start  of  every 
body  else,  and  put  in  that  bill  of  sale  at  Lammle’s  ?”  said 
Fledgeby.  “ Say  you  haven’t,  Mr.  Riah. 

“ Sir,  I have,”  replied  the  old  man  in  a low  voice. 

“ Oh  my  eye  !”  cried  Fledgeby.  ‘‘  Tut,  tut,  tut  I Dear, 
dear,  dear  ! Well,  I knew  you  were  a hard  curstomer, 
Mr.  Riah,  but  I never  tiiouglit  you  were  as  hard  as 
that.” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


229 


Sir/^  said  the  old  man,  with  great  uneasiness,  I do 
as  I am  directed.  I am  not  the  principal  here.  I am 
but  the  agent  of  a superior,  and  I have  no  choice,  no 
power/^ 

Doii^t  say  so,^^  retorted  Fledgeby,  secretly  exultant 
as  the  old  man  stretched  out  his  hands,  with  a shrinking 
action  of  defending  himself  against  the  sharp  construction 
of  the  two  observers.  Don^t  play  the  tune  of  the  trade, 
Mr.  Riah.  You’ve  a right  to  get  in  your  debts,  if  youh^e 
determined  to  do  it,  but  don^t  pretend  what  every  one  in 
your  line  regularly  pretends.  At  least,  don^t  do  it  to  me. 
Why  should  you,  Mr.  Riah  ? You  know  I know  all 
about  you.^^ 

The  old  man  clasped  the  skirt  of  his  long  coat  with 
his  disengaged  hand,  and  directed  a wistful  look  at 
Fledgeby. 

And  doiiT,^^  said  Fledgeby,  douT,  I entreat  you  as 
a favor,  Mr.  Rlah,  be  so  devilish  meek,  for  I know  what^ll 
follow  if  you  are.  Look  here,  Mr.  Riah.  This  gentle- 
man is  Mr.  Twemlow. 

The  Jew  turned  to  him  and  bowed.  That  poor  lamb 
bowed  in  return  ; polite,  and  terrified. 

I liave  made  such  a failure,’’  proceeded  Fledgeby, 
in  trying  to  do  any  thing  with  you  for  my  friend 
Lammle,  that  I’ve  hardly  a hope  of  doing  anything  with 
you  for  my  friend  (and  connection  indeed)  Mr.  Twem- 
low. But  I do  think  that  if  you  would  do  a favor  for 
any  body,  you  would  for  me,  and  I won’t  fail  for  want  of 
•trying,  and  I’ve  passed  my  promise  to  Mr.  Twemlow 
besides.  Now,  Mr.  Riah,  here  is  Mr.  Twemlow.  Al- 
ways good  for  his  interest,  always  coming  up  to  time, 
always  paying  bis  little  way.  Now,  why  should  you 


230 


OtJR  MUTUAL  FUTEND. 


press  Mr.  Twemlow  ? You  can^t  have  any  spite 
against  Mr.  Twemlow  ! Why  not  be  easy  with  Mr. 
Twemlow 

The  old  man  looked  into  Fledgeby’s  little  eyes  for 
any  sign  of  leave  to  be  easy  with  Mr.  Twemlow  ; but 
there  was  no  sign  in  them. 

Mr.  Twemlow  is  no  connection  of  yours,  Mr.  Riah,’^ 
said  Pledgeb}^  ; ‘‘you  can^t  wmnt  to  be  even  with  him 
for  having  through  life  gone  in  fo#  a gentleman  and 
hung  on  to  his  Family.  If  Mr.  Twemlow  has  a con- 
tempt for  business,  what  can  it  matter  to  you 

“ But  pardon  me,^’  interposed  the  gentle  victim,  “ I 
have  not,  I should  consider  it  presumption.” 

“There,  Mr.  Riah  !”  said  Fledgeby,  “isn’t  that 
handsomely  said  ? Come  1 Make  terms  with  me  for 
Mr.  Twemlow.” 

The  old  man  looked  again  for  any  sign  of  permission 
to  spare  the  poor  little  gentleman.  No.  Mr.  Fledge- 
by meant  him  to  be  racked. 

“ I am  very  sorry,  Mr.  Twemlow,”  said  Riah.  “ I 
have  my  instructions.  I am  invested  with  no  authori- 
ty for  diverging  from  them.  The  money  must  be 
paid.” 

“ In  full  and  slap  down,  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Riah  ?” 
asked  Fledgeby,  to  make  things  quite  explicit. 

“ In  full.  Sir,  and  at  once,”  was  Riah’s  answer. 

Mr.  Fledgeby  shook  his  head  deploringly  at  Twem* 
low,  and  mutely  expressed  in  reference  to  the  venera- 
ble figure  standing  before  him  with  eyes  upon  the 
ground  : “ What  a Monster  of  an  Israelite  this  is 

“Mr.  Riah,”  said  Fledgeby. 

The  old  man  lifted  up  his  eyes  once  more  to  the  lit- 


OVn  MUTTTAL  FRIEND. 


231 


tie  eyes  in  Mr.  Fledgeby^s  head,  with  some  reviving 
hope  that  the  sign  might  he  coming  yet, 

Mr.  Kiah,  it’s  of  no  use  my  holding  back  the  fact. 
There’s  a certain  great  party  in  the  back-ground  in 
Mr.  Twemlow’s  case,  and  you  know  it.’’ 

I know  it,’’  the  old  man  admitted. 

Now,  I’ll  put  it  as  a plain  point  of  business.  Mr. 
Eiah.  Are  you  fully  determined  (as  a plain  point  of 
business)  either  to  have  that  said  great  party’s  se- 
curity, or  that  said  great  party’s  money  ?” 

Fully  determined,”  answered  Riah,  as  he  read  his 
master’s  face,  and  learned  the  book. 

Not  at  all  caring  for,  and  indeed  as  it  seems  tome 
rather  enjoying,”  said  Fledgeby,  with  peculiar  unction, 
the  precious  kick-up  and  row  that  will  come  off  be*^ 
tween  Mr.  Twemlow  and  the  said  great  party  ?” 

This  required  no  answer,  and  received  none.  Poor 
Mr.  Twemlow,  who  had  betrayed  the  keenest  mental 
terrors  since  his  noble  kinsman  loomed  in  the  prospec- 
tive, rose  with  a sigh  to  take  his  departure.  **  I 
thank  3-011  very  much.  Sir,”  he  said,  offering  Fledgeby 
his  feverish  hand.  You  have  done  me  an  unmerited 
service.  Thank  3-ou,  thank  you  1” 

“ Don’t  mention  it,”  answered  Fledgeby.  It’s  a 
failure  so  far,  but  I’ll  stay  behind,  and  take  another 
touch  at  Mr.  Riah.” 

"‘Do  not  deceive  yourself,  Mr.  Twemlow,”  said  the 
Jew,  then  addressing  him*  directly  for  the  first  time. 

There  is  no  hope  for  you.  You  must  expect  no  leni- 
ency here.  You  must  pay  in  full,  and  you  can  not 
pay  too  promptly,  or  you  will  be  put  to  heavy  charges. 
Trust  nothing  to  me.  Sir.  Money,  money,  money.” 


232 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


When  he  had  said  these  words  in  an  emphatic  manner, 
he  acknowledged  Mr.  Twemlow’s  still  polite  motion  of 
his  head,  and  that  amiable  little  worthy  took  his  de- 
parture in  the  lowest  spirits. 

Fascination  Fledgeby  was  in  such  a merry  vein 
when  the  counting-house  was  cleared  of  him,  that  he 
had  nothing  for  it  but  to  go  to  the  window,  and  lean 
his  arms  on  the  frame  of  theklind,  and  have  his  silent 
laugh  out,  with  his  back  to  his  subordinate.  When 
he  turned  round  again  with  a composed  countenance, 
his  subordinate  still  stood  in  the  same  place,  and  the 
dolls^  dress-maker  sat  behind  the  door  with  a look  of 
horror. 

Halloa  cried  Mr.  Fledgeby,  you’re  forgetting 
this  young  lady,  Mr.  Kiah,  and  she  has  been  waiting 
long  enough  too.  Sell  her  her  waste,  please,  and  give 
her  good  measure  if  you  can  make  up  your  mind  to  do 
the  liberal  thing  for  once.” 

He  looked  on  for  a time,  as  the  Jew  filled  her  little 
basket  with  such  scraps  as  she  was  used  to  buy  ; but 
his  merry  vein  coming  on  again,  he  was  obliged  to 
turn  round  to  the  window  once  more,  and  lean  his 
arms  on  the  blind. 

“ There,  my  Cinderella  dear,'’  said  the  old  man  in  a 
whisper,  and  with  a worn-out  look,  the  basket’s  full 
now.  Bless  you  ! And  get  you  gone  !” 

Don’t  call  me  your  Cinderella  dear,”  returned  Miss 
Wren.  Oh  you  cruel  godmother  1” 

She  shook  that  emphatic  little  forefinger  of  hers  in 
his  face  at  parting,  as  earnestly  and  reproachfully 
as  she  had  ever  shaken  it  at  her  grim  old  child  at 
home. 


OITR  MUTUAL  FRIEm>. 


233 


**  You  are  not  the  godmother  at  all !”  said  she. 
You  are  the  Wolf  in  the  Forest,  the  wicked  Wolf ! 
And  if  ever  my  dear  Lizzie  is  sold  and  betrayed,  I 
shall  know  who  sold  and  betrayed  her  T’ 


234 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

MR  WEGG  PREPARES  A GRINDSTONE  FOR  MR.  BOFFIN’s 
NOSE. 

Having  assisted  at  a few  more  expositions  of  the 
lives  of  Misers,  Mr.  Venus  became  almost  indispensa- 
ble to  the  evenings  at  the  Bower.  The  circumstance 
of  having  another  listener  to  the  wonders  unfolded  by 
Wegg,  or,  as  it  were,  another  calculator  to  cast  up 
the  guineas  found  in  tea-pots,  chimneys,  racks,  and 
mangers,  and  other  such  banks  of  deposit,  ^seemed 
greatly  to  heighten  Mr.  Boffin^s  enjoyment  ; while 
Silas  Wegg,  for  his  part,  though  of  a jealous  temper- 
ament which  might  under  ordinary  circumstances  have 
resented  the  anatomises  getting  into  favor,  was  so 
very  anxious  to  keep  his  eye  on  that  gentleman — lest, 
being  too  much  left  to  himself,  he  should  be  tempted 
to  play  any  tricks  with  the  precious  document  in  his 
keeping — that  he  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  com- 
mending him  to  Mr.  Boffin’s  notice  as  a third  part}^ 
whose  company  was  much  to  be  desired.  Another 
friendly  demonstration  toward  Mr.  Wegg  now  regu- 
larly gratified.  After  each  sitting  was  over,  and  the 
patron  had  departed,  Mr.  Wegg  invariably  saw  Mr. 
Venus  home.  To  be  sure,  as  he  invariably  requested 
to  be  refreshed  with  a sight  of  the  paper  in  wdiich  he 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


235 


was  a joint  proprietor  ; but  he  never  failed  to  remark 
that  it  was  the  great  pleasure  he  derived  from  Mr. 
Venus^s  improving  society  which  had  insensibly  lured 
him  round  to  Clerkenwell  again,  and  that,  finding  him- 
self once  more  attracted  to  the  spot  by  the  social 
powers  of  Mr.  Y.,  he  would  beg  leave  to  go  through 
that  little  incidental  procedure,  as  a matter  of  form. 

For  well  I know,  Sir/^  Mr.  Wegg  would  add,  that 
a man  of  your  delicate  mind  would  wish  to  be  checked 
off  whenever  the  opportunity  arises,  and  it  is  not  for 
me  to  balk  your  feelings.^  ^ 

A certain  rustiness  in  Mr.  Yenus,  which  never  be- 
came so  lubricated  by  the  oil  of  Mr.  Wegg*  but  that 
he  turned  under  the  screw  in  a creaking  and  stiff  man- 
ner, was  very  noticeable  at  about  this  period.  While 
assisting  at  the  literary  evenings  he  even  went  so  far, 
on  tw^o  or  three  occasions,  as  to  correct  Mr.  Wegg 
when  he  grossly  mispronounced  a word,  or  made  non- 
sense of  a passage  ; insomuch  that  Mr.  Wegg  took  to 
surveying  his  course  in  the  day,  and  to  making  ar- 
rangements for  getting  round  rocks  at  night  instead 
of  running  straight  upon  them.  Of  the  slightest  ana- 
tomical reference  he  became  particularly  shy,  and,  if 
he  saw  a bone  ahead,  would  go  any  distance  out  of 
his  way  rather  than  mention  it  by  name. 

The  adveme  destinies  ordained  that  one  evening 
Mr.  Y/egg’s  laboring  bark  became  beset  by  polysylla- 
bles, and  embarrassed  among  a perfect  archipelago  of 
hard  words.  It  being  necessary  to  take  soundings 
every  minute,  and  to  feel  the  way  with  the  greatest 
caution,  Mr.  Wegg’s  attention  was  fully  employed. 
Advantage  was  taken  of  this  dilemma  by  Mr.  Yenus 


236 


OtJR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


to  pass  a scrap  of  paper  into  Mr.  Boffin’s  hand,  and 
lay  his  finger  on  his  own  lip. 

When  Mr.  Boffin, got  home  at  night  he  found  that 
the  paper  contained  Mr.  Venus’s  card  and  these  words : 
Should  be  glad  to  be  honored  with  a call  respecting 
business  of  your  own,  about  dusk  on  an  early  even- 
ing.” 

The  very  next  evening  saw  Mr.  Boffin  peeping  in  at 
the  preserved  frogs  in  Mr.  Venus’s  shop-window,  and 
saw  Mr.  Venus  espying  Mr.  Boffin  with  the  readiness 
of  one  on  the  alert,  and  beckoning  that  gentleman  into 
his  interior.  Eesponding,  Mr.  Boffin  was  invited  to 
seat  himself  on  the  box  of  human  miscellanies  before 
the  fire,  and  did  so,  looking  round  the  place  with  ad- 
miring eyes.  The  fire  being  low  and  fitful,  and  the 
dusk  gloomy,  the  whole  stock  seemed  to  be  winking 
and  blinking  with  both  eyes,  as  Mr.  Venus  did.  The 
French  gentleman,  though  he  had  no  eyes,  was  not  at 
all  behindhand,  but  appeared,  as  the  fiame  rose  and 
fell,  to  open  and  shut  his  no  eyes,  with  the  regularity  of 
the  glass-eyed  dogs  and  ducks  and  birds.  The  big- 
headed babies  were  equally  obliging  in  lending  their 
grotesque  aid  to  the  general  effect. 

“ You  see,  Mr.  Venus,  I’ve  lost  no  time,”  said  Mr. 
Boffin.  Here  I am.” 

“ Here  you  are,  Sir,”  assented  Mr.  Vi^us. 

I don’t  like  secrecy,”  pursued  Mr.  Boffin — ‘‘at 
least,  not  in  a general  way  I don’t — but  I dare  say 
you’ll  show  me  good  reason  for  being  secret  so  far.” 

“ I think  I shall.  Sir,”  returned  Venus. 

“ Good,”  said  Mr.  Boffin.  “ You  don’t  expect  Wegg, 
I take  it  for  granted  ?” 


OtJR  MUTtJAL  FRIEKB. 


237 


**  No,  Sir.  I expect  no  one  but  the  present  com- 
pany.’’ 

Mr.  Boffin  glanced  about  him,  as  accepting  under 
that  inclusive  denomination  the  French  gentleman  and 
the  circle  in  which  he  didn’t  move,  and  repeated,  The 
present  company.”  _ 

**  Sir,”  said  Mr.  Venus,  “ before  entering  upon  busi- 
ness, I shall  have  to  ask  you  for  your  word  and  honor 
that  we  are  in  confidence.” 

Let’s  wait  a bit  and  understand  what  the  expres- 
sion means,”  answered  Mr.  Boffin.  In  confidence 
for  how  long  ? In  confidence  forever  and  a day  ?” 

^‘I  take  your  hint,  Sir,”  said  Venus;  ^^you  think 
you  might  consider  the  business,  when  you  came  to 
know  it,  to  be  of  a nature  incompatible  with  confidence 
on  your  part  ?” 

I might,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  with  a cautious  look. 

‘^True,  Sir.  Well,  Sir,”  observecj.  Venus,  after 
clutching  at  his  dusty  hair,  to  brighten  his  ideas,  let 
us  put  it  another  way.  I open  the  business  with  you, 
relying  upon  your  honor  not  to  do  any  thing  in  it, 
and  not  to  mention  mo  in  it,  without  my  knowl- 
edge.” 

That  sounds  fair,”  said  Mr.  Boffin.  I agree  to 
that.” 

I have  your  word  and  honor,  Sir  ?” 

My  good  fellow,”  retorted  Mr.  Boffin,  “ you  have 
my  word  ; and  how  you  can  have  that,  without  my 
honor  too,  I don’t  know.  I’ve  sorted  a lot  of  diist  in 
my  time,  but  I never  knew  the  two  things  go  into 
separate  heaps.” 

This  remark  seemed  rather  to  abash  Mr.  Venus.  He 


238 


OUR  MUTUAL  URlP:ND. 


hesitated,  and  said,  ^‘Very  true,  Sir  and  again, 
“ Very  true,  Sir,’^  before  resuming  the  thread  of  his 
discourse. 

Mr.  Boffin,  if  I confess  to  you  that  I fell  into  a 
proposal  of  which  you  were  the  subject,  and  of  which 
you  oughtn’t  to  have  been  the  subject,  you  will  allow 
me  to  mention,  and  will  please  take  into  favorable 
consideration,  that  I was  in  a crushed  state  of  mind 
at  the  time.” 

The  Golden  Dustman,  with  his  hands  folded  on  the 
top  of  his  stout  stick,  with  his  chin  resting  upon  them, 
and  with  something  leering  and  whimsical  in  his  eyes, 
gave  a nod,  and  said,  “ Quite  so,  Venus.” 

**  That  proposal.  Sir,  was  a conspiring  breach  of 
your  confidence,  to  such  an  extent,  that  I ought  at 
once  to  have  made  it  known  to  you.  But  I didn’t,  Mr. 
Boffin,  and  I fell  into  it  ” 

Without  moving  eye  or  finger,  Mr.  Boffin  gave  ano- 
ther nod,  and  placidly  repeated,  Quite  so,  Venus.” 
Not  that  I was  ever  hearty  in  it,  Sir,”  the  peni- 
tent antagonist  w^ent  on,  or  that  I ever  viewed  my- 
self with  any  thing  but  reproach  for  having  turned  out 
of  the  paths  of  science  into  the  paths  of — ” He  was 

going  to  say  **  villainy,”  but  unwilling  to  press  too 
hard  upon  himself,  substjtuted  with  great  emphasis — 
“ Weggery.” 

Placid  and  whimsical  of  look  as  ever,  Mr.  Boffin 
answered  : Quite  so,  Venus.” 

And  now.  Sir,”  said  Venus,  “having  prepared 
your  mind  in  the  rough,  I will  articulate  the  details.” 
With  which  brief  professional  exordium,  he  entered 
on  the  history  of  the  friendly  move,  and  truly  recount- 


CUE  MUTUAL  FEIEND, 


239 


ed  it.  One  might  have  thought  that  it  would  have  ex- 
tracted some  show  of  surprise  or  auger,  or  other  emo- 
tion, from  Mr.  Boffin,  but  it  extracted  nothing  beyond 
his  former  comment : Quite  so,  Venus.’^ 

''  1 have  astonished  you,  Sir,  I believe  said  Mr. 
Venus,  pausing  dubiously. 

Mr.  Boffin  simply  answered  as  aforesaid  : Quite 

so,  Yenus.’^ 

By  this  time  the  astonishment  was  all  on  the  other 
side.  It  did  not,  however,  so  continue.  For,  when 
Venus  passed  to  Wegg^s  discovery,  and  from  that  to 
their  having  both  seen  Mr.  Boffin  dig  up  the  Butch 
bottle,  that  gentleman  changed  color,  changed  his  at- 
titude, became  extremely  restless,  and  ended  (when 
Venus  ended)  by  being  in  a state  of  manifest  anxiety, 
trepidation,  and  confusion. 

“Now,  Sir,’^  said  Venus,  finishing  off:  “you  best 
know  what  was  in  that  Butch  bottle,  and  why  you  dug 
it  up,  and  took  it  away.  I don’t  pretend  to  know  any 
thing  more  about  it  than  I saw.  All  I know  is  this  j 
I am  proud  of  my  calling  after  all  (though  it  has  been 
attended  by  one  dreadful  drawback  which  has  told 
upon  my  heart,  and  almost  equally  upon  my  skeleton), 
and  I mean  to  live  by  my  calling.  Putting  the  sam^ 
meaning  into  other  words,  I do  not  mean  to  turn  a 
single  dishonest  penny  by  this  affair.  As  the  best 
amends  I can  make  you  for  having  ever  gone  into  it, 
I make  known  to  you,  as  a warning,  what  Wegg  has 
found  out.  My  opinion  is,  that  Wegg  is  not  to  be 
silenced  at  a modest  price,  and  I build  that  opinion  on 
his  beginning  to  dispose  of  your  property  the  moment 
he  knew  bis  power.  Whether  it’s  worth  your  while 


240 


OUK  MUTtTAL  FRIEND. 


to  silence  him  at  any  price,  you  will  decide  for  your- 
self, and  take  3^our  measures  accordingly.  As  far  as 
I am  concerned,  I have  no  price.  If  I am  ever  called 
upon  for  the  truth,  I tell  it,  but  I want  to  do  no  more 
than  I have  now  done  and  ended.” 

'^Thank’ee,  Venus  !”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  with  a hearty 
grip  of  his  hand  ; thank^ee,  Venus,  thanVee,  Venus  !” 
And  then  walked  up  and  down  the  little  shop  in  great 
agitation.  But  look  here,  Venus,”  he  by-and-by  re- 
sumed, nervously  sitting  down  again  ; “ if  I have  to 
buy  Wegg  up,  I shan’t  buy  him  any  cheaper  for  your 
being  out  of  it.  Instead  of  his  having  half  the  money 
it  was  to  have  been  half,  I suppose  ? Share  and 
share  alike 

‘‘It  was  to  have  been  half.  Sir,”  answered  Venus. 

“ Instead  of  that,  he’ll  now  have  all.  I shall  pay  the 
same,  if  not  more.  For  you  tell  me  he’s  an  unconsciona- 
ble dog,  a ravenous  rascal.” 

“ He  is,”  said  Venus. 

“ Don’t  you  think,  Venus,”  insinuated  Mr.  Boffin,  after 
looking  at  the  fire  for  a while — “ don’t  you  feel  as  if — you 
might  like  to  pretend  to  be  in  it  till  Wegg  was  brought 
up,  and  then  ease  your  mind  by  handing  over  to  me  what 
^ou  had  made  believe  to  pocket  ?” 

“ No,  I don’t.  Sir,”  returned  Venus,  very  positively. 

“ Not  to  make  amends  ?”  insinuated  Mr.  Boffin. 

“ No,  Sir.  It  seems  to  me,  after  maturely  thinking  it 
over,  that  the  best  amends  for  having  got  out  of  the 
square  is  to  get  back  into  the  square.” 

“ Humph  !”  mused  Mr.  Boffin.  “ When  you  say  the 
square,  you  mean — ” 

“ I mean,”  said  Venus,  stoutly  and  shortly,  “ the  right.” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


241 


It  appears  to  me/^  said  Mr.  Boffin,  grumbling  over 
the  fire  in  an  injured  manner,  “that  the  right  is  with  me, 
if  it’s  any  where.  I have  much  more  right  to  the  old 
man’s  money,  than  the  Crown  can  ever  have.  What 
was  the  Crown  to  him  except  the  King’s  Taxes  ? Where- 
as, me  and  my  wife,  we  was  all  in  all  to  him.” 

Mr.  Yenus,  with  his  head  upon  his  hands,  rendered 
melancholy  by  the  contemplation  of  Mr.  Boffin’s  avarice, 
only  murmured  to  steep  himself  in  the  luxury  of  that 
frame  of  mind  : “ She  did  not  wish  so  to  regard  herself, 

nor  yet  to  be  so  regarded.” 

“And  how  am  I to  live,”  asked  Mr.  Boffin,  piteously, 
“ if  I’m  to  be  going  buying  fellows  up  out  of  the  little 
that  I’ve  got  ? And  how  am  I to  set  about  it  ? When 
am  I to  get  my  money  ready  ? When  am  I to  make  a 
bid  ? You  haven’t  told  me  when  he  threatens  to  drop 
down  upon  me.” 

Yenus  explained  under  what  conditions,  and  with  what 
views,  the  dropping  down  upon  Mr,  Boffin  was  held  over 
until  the  Mounds  should  be  cleared  away.  Mr.  Boffin 
|istened  attentively.  “ I suppose,”  said  he,  with  a gleam 
of  hope,  “there’s  no  doubt  about  the  genuineness  and 
date  of  this  confounded  will  ?” 

“ None  whatever,”  said  Mr.  Yenus. 

“ Where  might  it  be  deposited  at  present  asked  Mr. 
Boffin,  in  a wheedling  tone. 

“ It’s  in  ray  possession.  Sir.” 

“ Is  it  ?”  he  cried,  with  great  eagerness.  Kow,  for  any 
liberal  sum  of  money  that  could  be  agreed  upon,  Yenus, 
would  you  put  it  in  the  fire  ?” 

“ Ko,  Sir,  I wouldn’t”  interrupted  Mr.  Yenus. 

“ Xorpass  it  over  to  me  ?” 


242 


CUE  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


That  would  be  the  same  thing.  No,  Sir,^^  said  Mr. 
Venus. 

The  Golden  Dustman  seemed  about  to  pursue  these 
questions,  when  a stumping  noise  was  heard  outside, 
coming  toward  the  door.  Hush  ! here^s  Wegg  !”  said 
Venus.  Get  behind  the  young  alligator  in  the  corner,  Mr. 
Boffin,  and  judge  him  for  yourself.  I won’t  light  a can- 
dle till  he’s  gone  ; there’ll  only  be  the  glow  of  the  fire  ; 
Wegg’s  well  acquainted  with  the  alligator,  and  he  won’t 
take  particular  notice  of  him.  Draw  your  legs  in  Mr. 
Boffin,  at  present  I see  a pair  of  shoes  at  the  end  of  his 
tail.  Get  your  head  well  behind  his  smile,  Mr.  Boffin, 
and  you’ll  lie  comfortable  there  ; you’ll  find  plenty  of 
room  behind  his  smile.  He’s  a little  dusty,  but  he’s  very 
like  you  in  tone.  Are  you  right,  Sir  ?” 

Mr.  Boffin  had  but  whispered  an  affirmative  response, 
when  Wegg  came  stumping  in.  ^‘Partner,”  said  that  gen- 
tleman, in  a sprightly  manner,  howl’s  yourself?” 

Tolerable,”  returned  Mr.  Venus.  Not  much  to 
boast  of.” 

^‘  In-deed  !”  said  Wegg  ! “ sorry,  partner,  that  you’r|^ 
not  picking  up  faster,  but  your  soul’s  too  large  for  your 
body.  Sir  ; that’s  where  it  is.  And  how’s  our  stock  in 
trade,  partner  ? Safe  bind,  safe  find,  partner  ? Is  that 
about  it  ?” 

Do  you  wish  to  see  it  ?”  asked  Venus. 

If  you  please,  partner,”  said  Wegg,  rubbing  his  hands, 

I wish  to  sec  it  jintly  with  yourself.  Or,  in  similar 
words  to  some  that  was  set  to  music  sometime  back  : 

‘ I wish  you  to  see  it  with  your  eyes, 

And  I will  liledge  with  mine.’ 


OUE  MUTUAL  FEIEND. 


243 


Turning  his  back  and  turning  a key,  Mr.  Venus  pro- 
duced the  document,  holding  on  by  his  usual  corner.  Mn 
Wegg,  holding  on  by  the  opposite  corner,  sat  down  on 
the  seat  so  lately  vacated  by  Mr.  Boffin,  and  looked  it 
over.  All  right,  Sir/^  he  slowly  and  unwillingly  admitted, 
in  his  reluctance  to  loose  his  hold,  all  right  And 
greedily  watched  his  partner  as  he  turned  his  back  again, 
and  turned  his  key  again. 

There^s  nothing  new,  I suppose  said  Venus,  re-* 
suming  his  low  chair  behind  the  counter. 

Yes  there  is,  Sir,’^  replied  Wegg  ; there  was  some^ 
thing  new  this  morning*  That  foxy  old  grasper  and 
griper — 

'^Mr.  Boffin  inquired  Venus,  with  a glance  toward 
the  alligator^s  yard  or  two  of  smile* 

Mister  be  blowed  cried  Wegg,  yielding  to  his  hon* 
est  indignation.  Boffin.  Dusty  Boffin.  That  foxy  old 
grunter  and  grinder.  Sir,  turns  into  the  yard  this  morning, 
to  meddle  with  our  property,  a menial  tool  of  his  own,  a 
young  man  by  the  name  of  Sloppy.  Ecod,  when  I say  to 
him,  ‘ What  do  you  want  here,  young  man  ? This  is  a 
private  yard,’  he  pulls  out  a paper  from  Boffin’s  other 
blackguard,  the  one  I was  passed  over  for.  ^ This  is  to 
authorize  Sloppy  to  overlook  the  carting,  and  to  watch 
the  ^vork.’  That’s  pretty  strong,  I think,  Mr.  Venus  ?” 

''  Bemember  he  doesn’t  know  yet  of  our  claim  on  the 
property,”  suggested  Venus. 

“ Then  he  must  have  a hint  of  it,”  said  Wegg,  and  a' 
strong  one  that’ll  jog  his  terrors  a bit.  Give  him  an 
inch,  and  he’ll  take  an  ell.  Let  him  alone  this  time,  and 
what’ll  he  do  with  our  property  next  ? I tell  you  what, 
Mr.  Venus  ; it  comes  to  this  ; I must  be  overbearing 


U4: 


OtJH  MOTtJAL 


with  Boffin,  or  I shall  fly  into  several  pieces.  1 can^t 
contain  myself  when  I look  at  him.  Every  time  I see 
him  putting  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  I see  him  putting  it 
into  ray  pocket.  Every  time  I hear  him  jingling  his  mo- 
ney, I hear  him  taking  liberties  with  my  money.  Flesh 
and  blood  can’t  bear  it.  No,”  said  Mi\  Wegg,  greatly 
exasperated,  and  I’ll  go  further.  A wooden  leg  can^fc 
bear  it  1” 

But,  Mr*  Wegg/’  urged  Venus,  it  was  your  own 
idea  that  he  should  not  be  exploded  upon^  till  the  Mounds 
were  carted  away. 

^'But  it  was  likewise  my  idea,  Mr.  Venus,”  retorted 
Wegg,  “ that  if  he  came  sneaking  and  sniffiing  about  the 
property,  he  should  be  threatened,  given  to  understand 
that  be  has  no  right  to  it,  and  be  made  our  slave*  Wasn’t 
that  my  idea,  Mr*  Venus  ?” 

It  certainly  was,  Mr.  Wegg.” 

It  certainly  was,  as.,  you  say,  partner,”  assented 
Wegg,  put  into  a better  humor  by  the  ready  admission* 
Very  well*  I consider  his  planting  one  of  his  menial 
tools  in  the  yard,  an  act  of  sneaking  aud  sniffiing*  And 
his  nose  shall  be  put  to  the  grindstone  for  it.” 

“ It  was  not  your  fault,  Mr.  Wegg,  I must  admit,” 
said  Venus,  that  he  got  off  with  the  Dutch  bottle  that 
night.” 

“ As  you  handsomely  say  again,  partner  I” 

No,  it  was  not  my  fault.  I’d  have  had  that  bottle  out 
Whim.  Was  it  to  be  borne  that  he  should  come  like  a 
thief  in  the  dark,  digging  among  stuff  that  was  far  more 
ours  than  his  (seeing  that  we  could  deprive  him  of  every 
grain  of  it,  if  he  didn’t  buy  us  at  our  own  figure),  and 
carrying  off  treasure  from  its  bowels  ? No,  it  was  not  to 


OTJB  MUTUAL  FETEND. 


245 


be  borne.  And  for  that,  too,  his  nose  shall  be  put  to  the 
grindstone.’^ 

''  How  do  you  propose  to  do  it,  Mr.  Wegg  ?” 

To  put  his  nose  to  the  grindstone  ? I propose,”  re- 
turned that  estimable  man,  to  insult  him  openly.  And, 
if  looking  into  this  eye  of  mine,  he  dares  to  offer  a word 
in  answer,  to  retort  upon  him  before  he  can  take  his 
breath.  ^ Add  another  word  to  that,  you  dusty  old  dog, 
and  your’e  a beggar.’  ” 

Suppose  he  says  nothing,  Mr.  Wegg  ?” 

Then,”  replied  Wegg,  ^Sve  shall  have  come  to  an 
ifnderstanding  with  very  little  trouble,  and  I’ll  break  him 
and  drive  him,  Mr.  Yenus.  I’ll  put  him  in  harness,  and 
I’ll  bear  him  up  tight,  and  I’ll  break  him  and  drive  him. 

The  harder  the  old  Dust  is  driven,  Sir,  the  higher  he’ll 
pay.  And  I mean  to  be  paid  high,  Mr.  Yenus,  I pro- 
mise you.” 

You  speak  quite  revengefully,  Mr.  Wegg.”  C * 

Hevengefully,  Sir  ? Is  it  for  him  that  I have  de- 
clined and  failed  night  after  night  ? Is  it  for  his  plea- 
sure that  I’ve  waited  at  home  of  an  evening,  like  a set 
of  skittles,  to  be  set  up  and  knocked  over,  set  up  and 
knocked  over,  by  whatever  balls — or  books — he  chose  to 
bring  against  me  ? Why,  I’m  a hundred  times  the  man 
he  fs.  Sir,  five  hundred  times  !” 

Perhaps  it  was  with  the  malicious  intent  of  urging  him 
on  to  his  worst  that  Mr.  Yenus  looked  as  if  he  doubted 
that. 

“ What  ? Was  it  outside  the  house  at  present  oeky- 
pied,  to  its  disgrace,  by  that  minion  of  fortune  and  worm 
of  the  hour,”  said  Wegg,  falling  back  upon  his  strongest 
terms  of  reprobatio;i,  and  slapping  the  counter,  that  I, 


246 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


Silas  Wegg,  five  hundred  times  the  man  he  ever  was,  sat 
in  all  weathers,  waiting  for  an  errand  or  a customer  ? 
Was  it  outside  that' very  house  as  I first  set  eyes  upon 
him,  rolling  in  the  lap  of  luxury,  when  I was  a selling 
half-penny  ballads  there  for  a living  ? And  am  I to  gro- 
vel in  the  dust  for  him  to  walk  over  ? No  !’^ 

There  was  a grin  upon  the  ghastly  countenance  of  the 
French  gentleman  under  the  influence  of  the  fire-light,  as 
if  he  were  computing  how  many  thousand  slanderers  and 
traitors  array  themselves  against  the  fortunate,  on  prem- 
ises exactly  answering  to  those  of  Mr.  Wegg.  One  might 
have  fancied  that  the  big-headed  babies  were  toppling 
over  with  their  hydrocephalic  attempts  to  reckon  up  the 
children  of  men  who  transform  their  benefactors  into  their 
injurers  by  the  same  process.  The  yard  or  two  of  smile 
on  the  part  of  the  alligator  might  have  been  invested 
with  the  meaning.  All  about  this  was  quite  familiar 
3 knowledge  down  in  the  depths  of  the  slime,  ages  ago.^^ 
‘'But,  said  Wegg, possibly  with  some  slight  percep- 
tion to  the  foregoing  effect,  " your  speaking  countenance 
remarks,  Mr.  Venus,  that  Pm  duller  and  savager  than 
usual.  Perhaps  I ham  allowed  myself  to  brood  too  much. 
Begone,  dull  Care  ! ^Tis  gone.  Sir.  Pve  looked  in  uporr 
you,  and  empire  resumes  her  sway.  For,  as  the  song 
says — subject  to  your  correction.  Sir — 

“ When  the  heart  of  a man  is  depressed  with  cares, 

The  mist  is  dispelled  if  Venus  appears. 

Like  the  notes  of  a fiddle,  you  sweetly,  Sir,  sweetly, 

Raises  our  spirits  and  charms. our  oars.’^ 

Good-night,  Sir.^^ 

‘‘I  shall  have  a word  or  two  to  say  to  you,  Mr. 


OUR  MUTUAI.  FRIEND. 


24:7 


Wegg,  before  long/^  remarked  Yenus,  respecting  my 
share  in  the  project  vveVe  been  speaking 

‘‘My  time,  Sir,  returned  Wegg,  “is  yours.  In  the 
mean  while  let  it  be  fully  understood  that  I shall  not  neg- 
lect bringing  the  grindstone  to  bear,  nor  yet  bringing 
Dusty  Boffln^s  nose  to  it  His  nose  once  brought  to  it, 
shall  be  held  to  it  by  these  hands,  Mr.  Y enus,  till  the 
sparks  flies  out  in  showers.^^ 

Y^ith  this  agreeable  promise  Wegg  stumped  out,  and 
shut  the  shop  door  after  him.  “ Wait  till  I light  a can- 
dle, Mr.  Boffin,’^  said  Yenus,  “ and  youfll  come  out  more 
comfortable.’^  So,  he  .lighting  a candle  and  holding  it 
up  at  arm’s-length,  Mr.  Boffin  disengaged  himself  from 
behind  the  alligator’s  smile,  with  an  expression  of  coun- 
tenance so  very  downcast  that  it  not  only  appeared  as  if 
the  alligator  had  the  whole  of  the  joke  to  himself,  but 
further  as  if  it  had  been  conceived  and  executed  at  Mr. 
Boffin’s  expense. 

“ That’s  a treacherous  fellow,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  dust* 
ing  his  arms  and  legs  as  he  came  forth,  the  alligator 
having  been  but  musty  company,  “ That’s  a dreadful 
fellow.” 

“The  alligator.  Sir  ?”  said  Yenus. 

“ No,  Yenus,  no.  The  serpent.” 

“ You’ll  have  the  goodness  to  notice,  Mr.  Boffin,” 
remarked  Yenus,  “ that  I said  nothing  to  him  about 
my  going  out  of  the  affair  altogether,  because  I didn’t 
wish  to  take  you  any  ways  by  surprise.  But  I can’t 
be  too  soon  out  of  it  for  my  satisfaction,  Mr.  Boffin, 
and  I now  put  it  to  you  when  it  will  suit  your  views 
for  me  to  retire  ?” 

“Thank’ee,  Yenus,  thank’ee,  Yenus;  but  I don’t 


248 


OUE  MUTUAL  FETEND. 


know  what  to  say/’  returned  Mr.  Boffin,  I don^t 
know  what  to  do.  He’ll  drop  down  on  me  any  way. 
He  seems  fully  determined  to  drop  down  ; don’t  he  ?” 
Mr.  Venus  opined  that  such  was  clearly  his  in  ten 
tion. 

‘‘  You  might  be  a sort  of  protection  for  me,  if  you 
remained  in  ft,”  said  Mr.  Boffin  ; you  might  stand 
betwixt  him  and  me,  and  take  the  edge  off  him.  Don’t 
you  feel  as  if  you  could  make  a show  of  remaining  in 
it,  Venus,  till  I had  time  to  turn  myself  round  ?” 
Venus  naturally  inquired  how  long  Mr.  Boffin 
thought  it  might  take  him  to  turn  himself  round  ? 

I am  sure  I don’t  know,”  was  the  answer,  given 
quite  at  a loss.  ’ “ Every  thing  is  so  at  sixes  and 
sevens.  If  I had  never  come  into  the  property,  I 
shouldn’t  have  minded.  But  being  in  it,  it  would  be 
very  trying  to  be  turned  out  ; now  don’t  you  acknow- 
ledge that  it  would,  Venus  ?” 

Mr.  Venus  preferred,  he  said,  to  leave  Mr.  Boffin 
to  arrive  at  his  own  conclusions  on  that  delicate  ques- 
tion. 

I am  sure  I don’t  know  what  to  do,”  said  Mr. 
Boffin.  “ If  I ask  advice  of  any  one  else,  it’s  only  let- 
ting in  another  person  to  be  bought  out,  and  then  I 
shall  be  ruined  that  way,  aqd  might  as  well  have 
given  up  the  property  and  gone  slap  to  the  work- 
house.  If  I was  to  take  advice  of  my  young  man, 
Rokesmith,  I should  have  to  buy  him  out.  Sooner  or 
later,  of  course,  he’d  drop  down  upon  me,  like  Wegg. 
I was  brought  into  the  world  to  be  dropped  down  upon, 
it  appears  to  me.” 

Mr.  Venus  listened  to  these  lamentations  in  silence, 


OtJR  MUTUAL  FRIEKD. 


249 


while  Mr.  Boffin  jogged  to  and  fro,  holding  his  pockets 
as  if  he  had  a pain  in  them. 

“ After  all,  you  liaven’t  said  what  you  mean  to  do 
yourself,  Venus.  When  you  do  go  out  of  it,  how  do 
you  mean  to  go 

Venus  replied  that  as  Wegghad  found  the  document 
and  handed  it  to  him,  it  was  his  intention  to  hand  it 
back  to  Wegg,  with  the  declaration  that  he  himself 
would  have  nothing  to  say  to  it,  or  do  with  it,  and 
that  Wegg  must  act  as  he  chose,  and  take  the  conse- 
quences. 

And  then  he  drops  down  v^^ith  his  wdiole  weight 
upon  me  cried  Mr.  Boffin,  ruefully.  Bd  sooner  be 
dropped  upon  by  you  than  by  him,  or  even  by  you 
jintly  than  by  him  alone.’^ 

Mr.  Venus  could  only  repeat  that  it  w^as  his  fixed 
intention  to  betake  himself  to  the  paths  of  science, 
and  to  walk  in  the  same  all  the  days  of  his  life  ; not 
dropping  down  upon  his  fellow-creatures  until  they 
were  deceased,  and  then  only  to  articulate  them  to  the 
best  of  his  humble  ability. 

‘‘  How  long  could  you  be  persuaded  to  keep  up  the 
appearance  of  remaining  in  it  asked  Mr.  Boffin,  re- 
tiring on  his  other  idea.  Could  you  be  got  to  do  so 
till  the  Mounds  are  gone 

No.  That  would  protract  the  mental  uneasiness  of 
Mr.  Venus  too  long,  he  said. 

“ !N^ot  if  I was  to  show  you  reason  now  ?”  demanded 
Mr.  Boffin  ; not  if  I was  to  show  you  good  and  suffi- 
cient reason 

Ifby  good  and  sufficient  reason  Mr.  Boffin  meant 


250 


OVU  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


honest  and  unimpeachable  reason,  that  might  weigh 
with  Mr.  Venus  against  his  personal  wishes  and  coiin 
venience.  But  he  must  add  that  he  saw  no  opening 
to  the  possibility  of  such  reason  being  shown  him. 

Come  and  see  me,  Venus, said  Mr.  Boffin,  at 
my  house.” 

‘‘Is  the  reason  there,  Sir?’^  asked  Mr.  Venus,  with 
an  incredulous  smile  and  blink. 

“ It  may  be,  or  may  not  be,”  said  Mr.  Boffin, 
“just  as  you  view  it.  But  in  the  mean  time  don’t  go 
out  of  the  matter.  Look  here.  Do  this.  Give  me 
your  word  that  you  won’t  take  any  steps  with  Wegg 
without  my  knowledge,  just  as  I have  given  you  my 
word  that  I won’t  without  yours.” 

“ Done,  Mr.  Boffin  !”  said  Venus,  after  brief  con- 
sideration. 

“ Thank’ee,  Venus,  thank’ee,  Venus  I Done  !” 

“ When  shall  I come  to  see  you,  Mr.  Boffin  ?” 

“ When  you  like.  The  sooner  the  better.  I must 
be  going  now.  Good-night,  Venus.” 

“ Good-night,  Sir.” 

“ And  good-night  to  the  rest  of  the  present  com- 
pany,” said  Mr.  Boffin,  glancing  round  the  shop. 
“They  make  a queer  show,  Venus,  and  I should  like 
to  be  better  acquainted  with  them  some  day.  Good- 
night, Venus,  good-night  I Thank’ee,  Venus,  thank’ee, 
Venus  ! With  that  he  jogged  out  into  the  street,  and 
jogged  upon  his  homeward  way.  ^ 

“ Now  I wonder,”  he  meditated  as  he  went  along, 
nursing  his  stick,  “ whether  it  can  be  that  Venus  is 
setting  himself  to  get  the  better  of  Wegg  ? Whether 


OUU  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


251 


it  can  be  tliat  he  means,  when  I have  bought  Wegg 
out,  to  have  me  all  to  himself,  and  to  pick  me  clean  to 
the  bones 

It  was  a cunning  and  suspicious  idea,  quite  in  the 
way  of  his  school  of  Misers,  and  he  looked  very  cun- 
ning and  suspicious  as  he  went  jogging  through  the 
streets.  More  than  once  or  twice,  more  than  twice 
or  thrice,  say  half  a dozen  times,  he  took  his  stick 
from  the  arm  on  which  he  nursed  it,  and  hit  a straight 
sharp  rap  at  the  air  with  its  head.  Possibly  the 
wooden  countenance  of  Mr.  Silas  Wegg  was  incor- 
poreally  before  him  at  those  moments,  for  he  hit  with 
intense  satisfaction. 

He  was  within  a few  streets  of  his  own  house  when 
a little  private  carriage,  coming  in  the  contrary  di- 
rection, passed  him,  turned  round,  and  passed  him 
again.  It  was  a little  carriage  of  eccentric  movement, 
for  again  he  heard  it  stop  behind  him  and  turn  round, 
and  again  he  saw  it  pass  him.  Then  it  stopped,  and 
then  went  on  out  of  sight.  But  not  far  out  of  sight; 
for  when  he  came  to  the  corner  of  his  own  street  there 
it  stood  again. 

There  w’as  a lady’s  face  at  the  window  as  he  came 
up  with  this  carriage,  and  he  was  passing  it  when  the 
lady  softly  called  to  him  by  his  name. 

‘‘  I beg  your  pardon.  Ma’am  ?”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  com- 
ing to  a stop. 

It  is  Mrs.  Lammle,”  said  the  lady. 

Mr.  Boffin  went  up  to  the  window,  and  hoped  Mrs. 
Lammle  was  well. 

“ Not  very  well,  dear  Mr.  Boffin  ; I have  fluttered 
myself  by  being — perhaps  foolishly — uneasy  and*  anx- 


252 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


ious.  I have  been  waiting  for  you  some  time.  Can 
I speak  to  you  ?’’ 

Mr.  Boffin  proposed  that  Mrs.  Lammle  should  drive 
on  to  his  house,  a few  hundred  yards  further. 

I would  rather  not,  Mr.  Boffin,  unless  you  particu- 
larly wish  it.  I feel  the  difficulty  and  delicacy  of  the 
matter  so  much  that  I would  rather  avoid  speaking'  to 
you  at  your  own  home.  Ton  must  think  this  very 
strange 

. Mr.  Boffin  said  no,  but  meant  \’es. 

It  is  because  I am  so  grateful  for  the  good  opin- 
ion of  all  my  friends,  and  am  so  touched  by  it,  that  I 
can  not  bear  to  run  the  risk  of  forfeiting  it  in  any  case, 
even  in  the  cause  of  duty.  I have  asked  my  husband 
(my  dear  Alfred,  Mr.  Boffin)  whether  it  is  the  cause 
of  duty,  and  he  has  most  emphatically  said  Yes.  I 
wish  I had  asked  him  sooner.  It  would  have  spared 
me  much  distress.’^ 

(“  Can  this  be  more  dropping  down  upon  me  I” 
thought  Mr.  Boffin,  quite  bewildered.) 

“ It  was  Alfred  who  sent  me  to  you,  Mr.  Boffin. 
Alfred  said,  ‘ Don^t  come  back,  Sophronia,  until  you 
have  seen  Mr.  Boffin,  and  told  him  all.  Whatever  he 
may  think  of  it,  he  ought  certainly  to  know  it.^ 
Would  you  mind  coming  into  the  carriage?’^ 

Mr.  Boffin  answered,  Not  at  alV’  and  took  his 
seat  at  Mrs.  Lammle^s  side. 

‘‘  Drive  slowly  any  whero,’^  Mrs.  Lammle  called  to 
her  coachman,  and  don^t  let  the  carriage  rattle.” 

It  must  be  more  dropping  down^,  I think,”  said 
Mr.  Boffin  to  himself.  What  next 


OUR  IMUTUAL  FRIEND. 


253 


CHAPTER  XY. 

THE  GOLDEN  DUSTMAN  AT  HTS  WORST. 

The  breakfast-table  at  Mr.  Boffin's  was  usually  a very 
pleasant  one,  and  was  always  presided  over  by  Bella.  As 
though  he  began  each  new  day  in  his  healthy  natural 
character,  and  some  waking  hours  were  necessary  to  his 
relapse  into  the  corrupting  influences  of  his  wealth,  the 
face  and  the  demeanor  of  the  Golden  Dustman  were  gen- 
erally unclouded  at  that  meal.  It  would  have  been  easy 
to  believe  then  that  there  was  no  change  in  him.  It  was 
as  the  day  went  on  that  the  clouds  gathered,  and  the 
brightness  of  the  morning  became  obscured.  One  might 
have  said  that  the  shadows  of  avarice  and  distrust  length- 
ened as  his  own  shadow  lengthened,  and  that  the  night 
closed  around  him  gradually. 

But  one  morning,  long  afterward  to  be  remembered,  it 
v/as  black  midnight  with  the  Golden  Dustman  when  he 
first  appeared.  His  altered  character  had  never  been  so 
grossly  marked.  His  bearing  toward  his  ^ecretary  was 
so  charged  with  insolent  distrust  and  arrogance,  that  the 
latter  rose  and  left  the  table  before  breakfast  was  half 
done.  The  look  he  directed  at  the  Secretary's  retiring 
figure  was  so  cunningly  malignant,  that  Bella  would  have 
sat  astounded  and  indignant,  even  though  he  had  not 


254 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


gone  the  length  of  secretly  threatening  Rokesmith  with 
his  clenched  fist  as  he  closed  the  door.  This  unlucky 
morning,  of  all  mornings  in  the  year,  was  the  morning 
next  after  Mr.  Boffin’s  interview  with  Mrs.  Lammle  in 
her  little  carriage. 

Bella  looked  to  Mrs.  Boffin’s  face  for  comment  on,  or 
explanation  of,  this  stormy  humor  in  her  husband,  but 
none  was  there.  An  anxious  and  a distressed  observation 
of  her  own  face  was  all  she  could  read  in  it.  When  they 
were  left  alone  together — which  was  not  until  noon,  for 
Mr.  Boffin  sat  long  in  his  easy-cliair,  by  turns  jogging  up 
and  down  the  breakfast-room,  clenching  his  fist  and  mut- 
tering— Bella,  in  consternation,  asked  her  what  had  hap- 
pened, what  was  wrong  ? am  forbidden  to  speak  to 
you  about  it,  Bella  dear  ; I mustn’t  tell  you,”  was  all  the 
answer  she  could  get.  And  still,  whenever,  in  her  won- 
der and  dismay,  she  raised  her  eyes  to  Mrs.  Boffin’s  face, 
she  saw  in  it  the  same  anxious  and  distressed  observation 
of  her  own. 

Oppressed  by  her  sense  that  trouble  was  impending, 
and  lost  in  speculations  why  Mrs.  Boffin  should  look  at 
her  as  if  she  had  any  part  in  it,  Bella  found  the  day  long 
and  dreary.  It  was  far  on  in  the  afternoon  when,  she 
being  in  her  own  room,  a servant  brought  her  a message 
from  Mr.  Boffin  begging  her  to  come  to  his. 

Mys.  Boffin  was  there,  seated  on  a sofa,  and  Mr.  Boffin 
was  jogging  up  and  down.  On  seeing  Bella  he  stopped, 
beckoned  her  to  l^im,  and  drew  her  arm  through  his. 

Don’t  be  alarmed,  my  dear,”  he  said,  gently  ; I am 
not  angry  with  you.  Why  you  actually  tremble  ! Don’t 
be  alarmed,  Bella,  my  dear.  I’ll  see  you  righted.” 

See  me  righted  ?”  thought  Bella.  And  then  re- 


CUE  MUTUAL  FEIEISTD. 


255 


peated  aloud  - in  a tone  of  astouisbment  : See  me 

righted,  Sir 

Ay,  ay  said  Mr.  Boffin.  See  you  righted.  Send 
Mr.  Eokesmitli  here,  you  Sir.’^ 

Bella  would  have  been  lost  in  perplexity  if  there  had 
been  pause  enough  ; but  the  servant  found  Mr.  Boke- 
smith  near  at  hand,  and  he  almost  immediately  presented 
himself. 

‘‘  Shut  the  door,  Sir,^’  said  Mr.  Boffin.  “ I have  got 
something  to  say  to  you  which  I fancy  youhi  not  be 
pleased  to  hear.’^ 

‘‘  I am  sorry  to  reply,  Mr.  Boffin,”  returned  the  Secre- 
tary, as,  having  closed  the  door,  he  turned  and  faced  him, 

that  I think  that  very  likely.” 

What  do  you  mean  ?”  blustered  Mr.  Boffin. 

“ I mean  that  it  has  become  no  novelty  to  me  to  hear 
from  your  lips  what  I would  rather  not  hear.” 

Oh  ! Perhaps  we  shall  change  that,”  said  Mr.  Boffin, 
with  a threatening  roll  of  his  head. 

I hope  so,”  returned  the  Secretary.  He  was  quiet 
and  respectful  ; but  stood,  as  Bella  thought,  (and  was 
glad  to  think.)  on  his  manhood  too. 

Now,  Sir,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  look  at  this  young  lady 
on  my  arm.” 

Bella  involuntarily  raising  her  eyes,  v*^hen  this  sudden 
reference  was  made  to  herself,  met  those  of  Mr.  Boke- 
smith.  He  was  pale  and  seemed  agitated.  Then  her 
eyes  passed  on  to  Mrs.  Boffin’s,  and  she  met  the  look  again. 
In  a flash  it  enlightened  her,  and  she  began  to  understand 
what  she  had  done. 

I say  to  you.  Sir,”  Mr.  Boffin  repeated,  look  at 
this  young  lady  on  my  arm.” 


256 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRTEKD. 


I do  SO,”  returned  the  Secretary. 

As  bis  glance  rested  again  on  Bella  for  a moment,  she 
thought  there  was  reproach  in  it.  But  it  is  possible  that 
the  reproach  was  within  herself. 

How  dare  you,  Sir,’^  said  Mr.  Boffin,  “ tamper,  un- 
known to  me,  with  this  young  lady  ? How  dare  you 
come  out  of  your  station,  and  your  place  in  my  house, 
to  pester  this  young  lady  with  your  impudent  ad- 
dresses 

I must  decline  to  answer  questions,”  said  the  Secre- 
tary, “ that  are  so  offensively  asked.” 

You  decline  to  answer  ?”  retorted  Mr.  Boffin.  You 
decline  to  answer,  do  you  ? Then  1^11  tell  you  what  it  is, 
Rokesmith,  1^11  answer  for  you.  There  are  two  sides  to 
this  matter,  and  1^1 1 take  ’em  separately.  The  first  side 
is,  sheer  Insolence.  That’s  the  first  side.” 

The  Secretary  smiled  with  some  bitterness,  as  though 
he  would  have  said,  So  I see  and  hear.” 

“ It  was  sheer  insolence  in  you,  I tell  you,”  said  Mr. 
Boffin,  even  to  think  of  this  young  lady.  This  young 
lady  was  far  above  you.  This  young  lady  was  no  match 
for  you.  This  young  lady  was  lying  in  wait  (as  she  was 
qualified  to  do)  for  money,  and  you  had  no  money.” 

Bella  hung  her  head  and  seemed  to  shrink  a little  from 
Mr.  Boffin’s  protecting  arm. 

“ What  are  you,  I should  like  to  know,”  pursued  Mr. 
Boffin,  “ that  you  were  to  have  the  audacity  to  follow  up 
this  young  lady  ? This  young  lady  was  looking  about  the 
market  for  a good  bid  ; she  wasn’t  in  it  to  be  snapped  up 
by  fellows  that  had  no  money  to  lay  out ; nothing  to  buy 
with.” 

Oh,  Mr.  Boffin  I Mrs.  Boffin,  pray  say  something 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


257 


for  me  murmured  Bella,  disengaging  her  arm,  and  cov- 
ering her  face  with  her  hands. 

“ Old  lady,^’  said  Mr.  Boffin,  anticipating  his  wife, 
^^you  hold  your  tongue.  Bella, , my  dear,  don^t  you  let 
yourself  be  put  out.  Ihl  right  you.’^ 

“ But  you  don’t,  you  don’t  right  me  !”  exclaimed  Bella, 
with  great  emphasis.  You  wrong  me,  wrong  me  !” 
Don’t  you  be  put  out,  my  dear,”  complacently  retorted 
Mr.  Boffin.  I’ll  bring  this  young  man  to  book.  Now, 
you  Rokesmith  ! You  can’t  decline  to  hear,  you  know, 
as  well  as  to  answer.  You  hear  me  tell  you  that  the  first 
side  of  your  conduct  was  Insolence — Insolence  and  Pre- 
sumption. Answer  me  one  thing,  if  you  can.  Didn’t  this 
young  lady  tell  you  so  herself  ?” 

Did  I,*Mr.  Rokesmith  ?”  asked  Bella,  with  her  face 
still  covered.  Oh  say,  Mr.  Rokesmith  ! Did  I ?” 

Don’t  be  distressed,  Miss  Wilfer  : it  matters  very 
little  now.” 

Ah  ! You  can’t  deny  it  though  !”  said  Mr.  Boffin, 
with  a knowing  shake  of  his  head. 

“ But  I have  asked  him  to  forgive  me  since,”  cried 
Bella  ; and  I would  ask  him  to  forgive  me  now  again, 
upon  ray  knees,  if  it  would  spare  him  !” 

Here  Mrs.  Boffin  broke  out  a-crying. 

Old  lady,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  stop  that  noise  ! Ten- 
der-hearted in  you.  Miss  Bella  ; but  I mean  to  have  it  out 
right  through  with  this  young  man,  having  got  him  into 
a corner.  Now,  you  Rokesmith.  I tell  you  that’s  one 
side  of  your  conduct — Insolence  and  Presumption.  Now 
I’m  a-coming  to  the  other,  which  is  much  worse.  This 
was  a speculation  of  yours.” 


4 


258 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


I indignautly  deny 

“ It’s  of  no  use  your  denying  it  ; it  doesn’t  signify  a 
bit  wlietlier  you  denydt  or  not  ; I’ve  got  a bead  upon  my 
shoulders,  and  it  ain’t  a baby’s.  What  !”  said  Mr.  Boffin, 
gathering  himself  together  in  his  most  suspicious  attitude, 
and  wrinkling  his  face  into  a very  map  of  curves  and  cor- 
ners. “ Don’t  I know  what  grabs  are  made  at  a man 
with  money  ? If  I didn’t  keep  my  eyes  open  and  my 
pockets  buttoned,  shouldn’t  I be  brought  to  the  work- 
house  before  I knew  where  I was  ? Wasn’t  the  experi- 
ence of  Dancer,  and  Elwes,  and  Hopkins,  and  Blewbury 
Jones,  and  ever  so  many  more  of  ’em,  similar  to  mine  ? 
Didn’t  every  body  want  to  make  grabs  at  what  they’d 
got,  and  bring  ’em  to  poverty  and  ruin  ? Weren’t  they 
forced  to  hide  every  thing  belonging  to  ’em,  for  fear  it 
should  be  snatched  from  ’em  ? Of  course  they  was.  I 
shall  be  told  next  that  they  didn’t  know  human  natur  !” 
They  ! Poor  creatures,”  murmured  the  Secretary. 

‘‘  What  do  you  say  ?”  asked  Mr.  Boffin,  snapjnng  at 
him.  However,  you  needn’t  be  at  the  trouble  of  repeat- 
ing it,  for  it  ain’t  worth  hearing,  and  v/on’t  go  down  with 
•me,  I’m  a-going  to  unfold  yonr  plan  before  this  young 
lady  ; Pm  a-goiiig  to  show  this  young  lady  the  second  view 
of  you,  and  nothing  you  can  s’ay  will  stave  it  off.  (Now, 
attend  here,  Bella,  my  dear.)  Rokesmith,  you’re  a needy 
chap.  You’re  a chap  that  I pick  up  in  the  street.  Are 
you,  or  ain’t  you  ?” 

Go  on,  Mr.  Boffin  ; don’t  appeal  to  me.” 

Not  appeal  to  retorted  Mr.  Boffin,  as  if  he 

hadn’t  done  so.  “ No,  I should  hope  not  ! Appeal- 
ing to  you  would  be  rather  a rum  course.  As  I was 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


/ 


259 


saying,  youTe  a needy  chap  that  I pick  up  in  the  street. 
You  come  and  ask  me  in  the  street  to  take  you  for  a 
Secretary,  and  I take  you.  Yery  good.^^ 

Yery  bad,^’  murmured  the  Secretary. 

What  do  you  say  asked  Mr.  Boffin,  snapping  at 
him  again. 

He  returned  no  answer.  Mr.  Boffin,  after  eyeing  him 
with  a comical  look  of  discomfited  curiosity,  was  fain  to 
begin  afresh. 

“This  Rokesmith  is  a needy  young  man  that  I take 
for  my  Secretary  out  of  the  open  street.  This  Rokesmith 
gets  acquainted  with  my  affairs,  and  gets  to  know  that  I 
mean  to  settle  a sum  of  money  on  this  young  lady.  ^ Oho  V 
says  tills  Rokesmith  here  Mr.  Boffin  clapped  a finger 
against  his  nose,  and  tapped  it  several  times  \#th  a sneak- 
ing air,  as  embodying  Rokesmith  confidentially  confabu- 
lating with  his  own  nose  ; “ ^ This  will  be  a good  haul  ; 
ril  go  in  for  this  And  so  this  Rokesmith,  greedy  and 
hungering,  begins  a-creeping  on  his  hands  and  knees  to- 
ward the  money.  Kot  so  bad  a speculation  either  ; for 
if  this  young  lady  had  had  less  spirit,  or  had  had  less 
sense,  through  being  at  all  in  the  romantic  line,  by 
George,  he  might  have  worked  it  out  and  made  it  pay  ! 
But  fortunately  she  was  too  many  for  him,  and  a pretty 
figure  he  cuts,  now  he  is  exposed.  There  he  stands 
said  ^Ir.  Boffin,  addressing  Rokesmith  himself  with  ridic- 
ulous inconsistency.  “ Look  at  him  V’ 

“ Your  unfortunate  suspicions,  Mr.  Boffin — began 
the  Secretary. 

“ Precious  unfortunate  for  you^  I co.n  tell  you,^^  said 
Mr.  Boffin. 

“ — are  not  to  be  combated  by  any  one,  and  I address 


260 


OUK  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


myself  to  no  such  hopeless  task.  But  I will  say  a word 
upon  the  truth.^^ 

“ Yah  ! Mucli  you  care  about  the  truth/^  said  Mr. 
Boffin,  with  a snap  of  his  fingers. 

Xodcly  ! My  clear  love  expostulated  his  wife. 

Old  lady,’^  returned  Mr.  Boffin,  ‘‘  you  keep  still.  I 
say  to  this  Eokesmith  here,  much  he  cares  about  the 
truth.  I tell  him  again,  much  he  cares  about  the  truth. 

Our  connection  being  at  an  end,  Mr.  Boffin,’^  said 
the  Secretar}%  “ it  can  be  of  very  little  moment  to  me 
what  you  say.’^ 

Oh  I You  are  knowing  enough,”  retorted  Mr. 
Boffin,  with  a sly  look,  to  have  found  out  that  our 
connection’s  at  an  end,  eh  ? But  you  can’t  get  be- 
forehand i^h  me.  Look  at  this  in  my  hand.  This  is 
your  pa}%  on  your  discharge.  You  can  only  follow 
suit.  You  can’t  deprive  me  of  the  lead.  Let’s  have 
no  pretending  that  3"ou  discharge  yourself.  I dis- 
charge you.” 

“ So  that  I go,”  remarked  the  Secretary,  waving  the 
point  aside  witli  his  hand,  “ it  is  all  one  to  me.” 

Is  it  ?”  said  Mr.  Boffin.  But  it’s  two  to  me,  let 
me  tell  you.  Allowing  a fellow  that’s  found  out,  to 
discharge  himself,  is  one  thing  ; discharging  him  for 
insolence  and  presumption,  and  likewise  for  designs 
upon  his  master’s  money,  is  another.  One  and  one’s 
two;  not  one.  (Old  lady,  don’t  you  cut  in.  You 
keep  still.)” 

Have  you  said  all  you  wish  to  say  to  me  de- 
manded the  Secretary. 

I don’t  know  whether  I have  or  not,”  answered 
Mr.  Boffin.  “ It  depends.” 


OVn  MUTUAL  FBIEND. 


261 


Perhaps  you  will  consider  whether  there  are  any 
other  strong  expressions  that  you  would  like  to  be* 
stow  upon  me 

ni  consider  that/’  said  Mr.  Boffin,  obstinately,  ^*at 
iny  convenience,  and  not  at  yours.  You  want  the  last 
wwd.  It  may  not  be  suitable  to  let  you  have  it.” 

“ Noddy  ! My  dear,  dear  Noddy  ! You  sound  so 
hard  !”  cried  poor  Mrs.  Boffin,  not  to  be  quite  repress* 
ed. 

Old  lady,”  said  her  husband,  but  without  harsh* 
ness,  if  you  cut  in  v/hen  requested  not,  Pll  get  a pil* 
low  and  carry  you  out  of  the  room  upon  it.  What  do 
you  want  to  say,  you  Rokesmith  ?” 

“ To  you,  Mr.  Boffin,  nothing.  But  to  Aliss  Wilfer 
and  your  good  kind  wife,  a word.” 

Out  with  it  then,”  replied  Mr.  Boffin,  **  and  cut  it 
short,  for  we’ve  had  enough  of  you.” 

I have  borne,”  said  the  Secretary,  in  a low  voice, 
with  my  false  position  here,  that  I might  not  be 
separated  from  Miss  Wilfer.  To  be  near  her  has  been 
a recompense  to  me  from  day  to  day,  even  for  the  un- 
deserved treatment  I have  had  here,  and  for  the  de- 
graded aspect  in  which  she  has  often  seen  me.  Since 
Miss  Wilfer  rejected  me  I have  never  again  urged  my 
suit,  to  the  best  of  my  belief,  with  a spoken  syllable 
or  a look.  But  I have  never  changed  in  my  devotion 
to  her,  except- — if  she  will  forgive  mj  saying  so — that 
it  is  deeper  than  it  was,  and  better  founded.” 

Now,  mark  this  chap’s  saying  Miss  Wilfer,  when 
he  means  £ s.  d,  /”  cried  Mr.  Boffin,  with  a cunning 
wink.  Now,  mark  this  chal)’s  making  Miss  Wilfer 
stand  for  Pounds,  Shillings,  and  Ponce  !” 


362 


OtJR  MlTTUAL  FRIEKD* 


My  feeling  for  Miss  Wilfer/^  pursued  the  Secte* 
tary,  without  deigning  to  notice  him,  “ is  not  one  to 
be  ashamed  of.  I avow  it.  I love  her.  Let  me  go 
where  I may  when  I presently  leave  this  house,  I shall 
go  into  a blank  life,  leaving  her.” 

“ Leaving  £ s.  d,  behind  me,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  by 
way  of  commentary,  with  another  Vvdnk. 

“That  I am  incapablej’’  the  Secretary  went  on,  still 
without  heeding  him,  “ of  a mercenary  project,  or  a 
mercenary  thought  in  connection  with  Miss  Wilfer,  is 
nothing  m.eritorious  in  me,  because  any  prize  that  1 
could  put  before  my  fancy  would  sink  into  insignifi- 
cance beside  her.  If  the  greatest  wealth  or  the  high- 
est rank  were  hers,  it  would  only  be  important  in  my 
sight  as  removing  her  still  farther  from  me,  and  mak- 
ing me  more  hopeless,  if  that  could  be.  Say,’’  re- 
marked the  Secretary,  looking  full  at  his  late  master, 
say  that  with  a word  she  could  strip  Mr.  Boffin  of 
his  fortune  and  take  possession  of  it,  she  would  be  of 
no  greater  worth  in  my  eyes  than  she  is,” 

“ What  do  you  think  by  this  time,  old  lady  ?”  asked 
Mr.  Boffin,  turning  to  his  wife  in  a bantering  tone, 
“ about  this  Kokesrnith  here,  and  his  caring  for  the 
truth  ? You  needn’t  say  what  you  think,  my  dear,  be- 
cause I don’t  want  you  to  cut  in,  but  you  can  think  it 
all  the  same.  As  to  taking  possession  of  my  property, 
I warrant  you  he  w^ouldn’t  do  that  himself  if  ho 
could.” 

“ No,”  returned  the  Secretary,  with  another  full 
look.  ^ 

“ Idti,  ha,  ha  !”  laughed  Mr.  Boffin.  “ There’s  noth- 
iug  like  a good  ’uu  while  you  are  about  it.” 


OtTK  HUTtlAL  FEIEND. 


263 


“ I have  been  for  a moment,”  said  the  Secretary, 
turning  from  him  and  falling  into  his  former  mannerj 
'‘diverted  from  the  little  I have  to  say.  My  interest 
in  Miss  Wilfer  began  when  I first  saw  her  ; even  be- 
gan when  1 had  only  heard  of  her.  It  was,  in  fact,  the 
cause  of  rny  throwing  myself  in  Mr.  Boffin^s  way,  and 
entering  his  service.  Miss  Wilfer  has  never  known 
this  until  now.  I mention  it  now,  only  as  a corrobo- 
ration (though  I hope  it  may  be  needless)  of  my  be- 
ing free  from  the  sordid  design  attributed  to  me.” 

“ Now,  this  is  a very  artful  dog,”  *said  Mr.  Boffin, 
with  a deep  look.  “ This  is  a longer-headed  schemer 
than  I thought  him.  See  how  patiently  and  methodi- 
cally he  goes  to  work.  He  gets  to  know  about  me 
and  my  property,  and  about  this  young  lady,  and  her 
share  in*,  poor  young  Johifs  story,  and  he  puts  this 
and  that  together,  and  he  says  to  himself,  ' Til  get  in 
with  Boffin,  and  Bll  get  in  with  this  young  lady,  and 
I’ll  wmrk  ^em  both  at  the  same  time,  and  I’ll  bring  my 
pigs  to  market  somewhere.’  I hear  him  say  it,  bless 
you  ! Why,  I look  at  him  now,  and  I see  him  say  it  I” 
Mr.  Boffin  pointed  at  the  culprit,  as  it  were  in  the 
act,  and  hugged  himself  in  his  great  penetration. 

" But  luckily  he  hadn’t  to  deal  with  the  people  he 
supposed,  Bella,  my  dear  !”  said  Mr.  Boffin.  “ No  ! 
Luckily  he  had  to  deal  with  you,  and  with  me,  and 
with  Daniel  and  Miss  Dancer,  and  with  Elwes,  and 
wdth  Vulture  Hopkins,  and  with  Blewbury  Jones  and 
all  the  rest  of  us,  one  down  t’other  come  on.  And  he’s 
beat,  that’s  what  he  is  ; regularly  beat.  He  thought 
to  squeeze  money  out  of  us,  and  he  has  done  for  him- 
self instead,  Bella  my  dear  I” 


264 


OUR  IVIUTUAL  FRIEND. 


Bella  my  dear  made  no  response,  gave  no  sign  of 
acquiescence.  When  she  had  first  covered  her  face 
she  had  sunk  upon  a chair  with  her  hands  resting  on 
the  back  of  it,  and  had  never  moved  since.  There 
w^as  a sliort  silence  at  this  point,  and  Mrs.  Boffin 
softly  rose  as  if  to  go  to  her.  But  Mr.  Boffin  stopped 
her  with  a gesture,  and  she  obediently  sat  down  again 
and  staid  where  she  was. 

There’s  your  pay,”  Mister  Rokesmitb,”  said  the 
Golden  Dustman,  jerking  the  folded  scrap  of  paper  he 
had  in  his  hand  toward  his  late  Secretary.  I dare  say 
you  can  stoop  to  pick  it  up,  after  what  you  have  stooped 
to  here.” 

''  I have  stooped  to  nothing  but  this,”  Rokesmith 
answered,  as  he  took  it  from  the  ground  ; ^^and  this 
is  mine,  for  I have  earned  it  by  the  hardest  of  hard 
labor.” 

You’re  a pretty  quick  packer,  I hope,”  said  Mr. 
Boffin  ; because  the  sooner  you  are  gone,  bag  and  bag- 
gage, the  better  for  all  parties.” 

You  need  have  no  fear  of  my  lingering.” 

There’s  just  one  thing,  though,”  said  Mr.  Boffin, 
**  that  I should  like  to  ask  you  before  we  come  to  a good 
riddance,  if  it  was  only  to  show  this  young  lady  how  con- 
ceited you  schemers  are,  in  thinking  that  nobody  finds 
out  how  you  contradict  yourselves.” 

“ Ask  me  any  thing  you  wish  to  ask,”  returned  Roke- 
smith,  ‘‘  but  use  the  expeditiou  that  you  recommend.” 
You  pretend  to  have  a mighty  admiration  for  this 
young  lady  ?”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  laying  his  hand  protect- 
ingly  on  Bella’s  head  without  looking  down  at  her. 

“ I do  not  pretend.” 


oma  MUTUAL  FKIEND. 


265 


Ob  ! Well.  You  ham  a mighty  admiration  for  this 
young  lady — since  you  are  so  particular 
Yes.’’ 

“ How  do  you  reconcile  that  with  this  young  lady’s 
being  a weak-spirited,  improvident  idiot,  not*  knowing 
what  was  due  to  herself,  flinging  up  her  money  to  the 
church  weather-cocks,  and  rxicing  off  at  a splitting  pace 
for  the  work-house  ?” 

I don’t  understand  you.” 

‘‘Don’t  you?  Or  won’t  you?  What  else  could  you 
have  made  this  young  lady  out  to  be,  if  she  had  listened 
to  such  addresses  as  yours  !” 

“ What  else,  if  I had  been  so  happy  as  to  win  her 
affections  and  possess  her  heart  ?” 

“ Win  her  affections,”  retorted  Mr.  Boffin,  with  ineffa- 
ble contempt,  “ and  possess  her  heart  ! Mew  says  the 
cat.  Quack-quack  says  the  duck.  Bow-wow-wow  says  the 
dog  ! .Win  her  affections  and  possess  her  heart  ! Mew. 
Quack-quack,  Bow-wow  !” 

John  Rokesmith  stared  at  him  in  his  outburst,  as  if 
with  some  faint  idea  that  he  had  gone  mad. 

“ What  is  due  to  this  young  lady,”  said  Mr.  Boffin, 
“ is  Money,  and  this  young  lady  right  well  knows  it.” 

“You  slander  the  young  lady,” 

“ Yovb  slander  the  young  lady;  you  with  your  affections 
and  hearts  and  trumpery,”  returned  Mr.  Boffin.  “ It’s  of 
a piece  with  the  rest  of  your  behavior.  I heard  of  these 
doings  of  yours  only  last  night,  or  you  should  have  heard 
of  ’em  from  me  sooner,  take  your  oath  of  it,  I heard  of 
’em  from  a lady  with  as  good  a head-piece  as  the  best, 
and  she  knows  this  young  lady,  and  I know  this  young 
lady,  and  we  all  three  know  that  it’s  Money  she  makes 


266 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


a stand  for — money,  money,  money — and  that  you  and 
jour  affections  and  hearts  are  a Lie,  Sir 

Mrs.  Boffin,”  said  Rokesmitli,  quietly  turning  to  her, 
for  your  delicate  and  unvarying  kindness  I thank  you 
with  the  warmest  gratitude.  Good-by!  Miss  Wilfer, 
good-by !” 

And  now,  my  dear,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  laying  his  hand 
on  Bella's  head  again,  you  may  begin  to  make  yourself 
quite  comfortable,  and  I hope  you  feel  that  yoifve  been 
righted.” 

But  Bella  was  so  far  from  appearing  to  feel  it  that  she 
shrank  from  his  hand  and  from  the  chair,  and,  starting 
up  in  an  incoherent  passion  of  tears,  and  stretching  out 
her  arms,  cried,  ‘‘  0 Mr.  Eokesmith,  before  you  go,  if  you 
could  but  make  me  poor  again  1 O ! make  me  poor 
again.  Somebody,  I beg  and  pray,  or  my  heart  will  break 
if  this  goes  on  1 Pa,  dear,  make  me  poor  again  and  take 
me  home  1 I was  bad  enough  there,  but  I have  .been  so 
much  worse  here.  Don’t  give  me  money,  Mr.  Boffin,  I 
won’t  have  money.  Keep  it  away  from  me,  and  only  let 
me  speak  to  good  little  Pa,  and  lay  my  head  upon  his 
shoulder,  and  tell  him  all  my  griefs.  Nobody  else  can 
underetand  me,  nobody  else  can  comfort  me,  nobody  else 
knows  how  unworthy  I am,  and  yet  can  love  me  like  a 
little  child.  I am  better  with  Pa  thaS  any  one — more 
innocent,  more  sorry,  more  glad  1”  So,  crying  out  in  a 
wild  way  that  she  could  not  bear  this,  Bella  drooped  her 
head  on  Mrs.  Boffin’s  ready  breast. 

John  Rokesmith  from  bis  place  in  the  room,  and  Mr. 
Boffin  from  his,  looked  on  at  her  in  silence  until  she  was 
silent  herself.  Then  Mr.  Boffin  observed,  in  a soothing 
and  comfortable  tone,  “ There,  my  dear,  there  ; you  are 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEKDa 


m 


righted  now,  and  it^s  all  right.  I don^t  wonder,  I^m  sure, 
at  your  being  a little  flurried  by  having  a scene  with  this 
fellow,  but  it^s  all  over,  my  dear,  and  you’re  righted,  and 
it’s — and  it’s  all  right !”  Which  Mr.  Boflin  repeated  with 
a highly  satisfied  air  of  completeness  and  finality. 

I hate  you  1”  cried  Bella,  turning  suddenly  upon  him, 
with  a stamp  of  her  little  foot-^^‘  at  least,  I can’t  hate 
you,  but  I don’t  like  you  !” 

Hul-lo  I”  exclaimed  Mr.  Boffin,  in  an  amazed  under- 
tone. 

You’re  a scolding,  unjust,  abusive,  aggravating, 
bad  old  creature  !”  cried  Bella.  '‘lam  angry  with  my 
ungrateful  self  for  calling  you  names  ; but  you  are,  you 
are  ; you  know  you  are  !” 

Mr.  Boffin  stared  here,  and  stared  there,  as  misdoubt- 
ing that  he  must  be  in  some  sort  of  fit. 

“ I have  heard  you  with  shame,”  said  Bella.  “ With 
shame  for  myself,  and  with  shame  for  you.  You  ought 
to  be  above  the  base  tale-bearing  of  a time-serving 
woman  ; but  you  are  above  nothing  now.” 

Mr.  Boffin,  seeming  to  become  convinced  that  this  was 
a fit,  rolled  his  eyes  and  loosened  his  neckcloth. 

“ When  I came  here  I respected  you  and  honored  you, 
and  I soon  loved  you,”  cried  Bella.  “ And  now  I can’t 
bear  the  sight  of  you.  At  least,  I don’t  know  that  I 
ought  to  go  so  far  as  that — only  you’re  a— you’re  a Mon- 
ster !”  Having  shot  this  bolt  out  with  a great  expend- 
iture of  force,  Bella  hysterically  lauglied  and  cried 
together. 

“The  best  wish  I can  wish  you  is,”  said  Bella,  return* 
ing  to  the  charge,  “ that  you  had  not  one  single  farthing 
in  the  world.  If  any  true  friend  and  well-wisher  could 


268 


OVU  MUTUAL  FRlEKD. 


make  you  a bankrupt,  you  would  be  a Duck  ; but  as  a 
man  of  property  you  are  a Demon  I” 

After  dispatching  this  second  bolt  \idth  a still 
greater  expenditure  of  force,  Bella  laughed  and  cried 
still  more* 

Mr.  Rokesmith,  pray  stay  one  moment.  Pray  hear 
one  word  from  me  before  you  go  1 I am  deeply 
sorry  for  the  reproaches  you  have  borne  on  my  account. 
Out  of  the  depths  of  my  heart  I earnestly  aud  truly  beg 
your  pardon.'^ 

As  she  stepped  toward  him,  he  met  her.  As  she  gave 
him  her  hand,  he  put  it  to  his  lips,  and  said,  “ God  bless 
you  No  laughing  was  mixed  with  Beliaks  crying  then  ; 
her  tears  were  pure  and  fervent. 

There  is  not  an  ungenerous  word  that  I have  heard 
addressed  to  you*— heard  with  scorn  and  indignation,  Mr. 
Rokesmith — but  it  has  wounded  me  far  more  than  you, 
for  I have  deserved  it,  and  you  never  have.  Mr.  Roke- 
smith, it  is  to  me  you  owe  this  perverted  account  of 
what  passed  between  us  that  night.  I parted  with  the 
secret,  even  while  I was  angry  with  myself  for  doing  so. 
It  was  very  bad  in  me,  but  indeed  it  was  not  wicked.  I 
did  it  in  a moment  of  conceit  and  folly — one  of  my  many 
such  moments — one  of  my  many  such  hours — years.  As 
I am  punished  for  it  severely,  try  to  forgive  it 

I do,  with  all  my  soul.^^ 

Thank  you.  0 thank  you  ! DonT  part  from  me 
till  I have  said  one  other  word,  to  do  you  justice.  The 
only  fault  you  can  be  truly  charged  with,  in  having  spoken 
to  me  as  you  did  that  night — with  how  much  delicacy  and 
how  much  forbearance  no  one  but  I can  know  or  be 
grateful  to  you  for — is,  that  you  laid  yourself  open  to  be 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


269 


slighted  bj  a'  worldly  shallow  girl  whose  head  was  turned, 
and  who  was  quite  unable  to  rise  to  the  worth  of  what 
you  olFered  her.  Mr.  Rokesmith,  that  girl  has  often 
seen  herself  in  a pitiful  and  poor  light  since,  but  never 
in  so  pitiful  and  poor  a light  as  now,  when  the  mean 
tone  in  which  she  answered  you — sordid  and  vain  girl 
that  she  was — has  been  echoed  in  her  ears  by  Mr. 
Boffin.’^ 

He  kissed  her  hand  again. 

“ Mr.  Boffin’s  speeches  were  detestable  to  me,  shocking 
to  me,”  said  Bella,  startling  that  gentleman  with  another 
stamp  of  her  little  foot.  It  is  quite  true  that  there  was 
a time,  and  very  lately,  when  I deserved  to  be  so  ^ right- 
ed,’ Mr.  Rokesmith  ; but  I hope  that  I shall  never  de- 
serve it  again !” 

He  once  more  put  her  hand  to  his  lips,  and  then  re*- 
linquished  it,  and  left  the  room.  Bella  was  hurrying  back 
to  the  chair  in  which  she  had  hidden  her  face  so  long, 
when,  catching  sight  of  Mrs.  Boffin  by  the  way,  she  stop- 
ped at  her.  “ He  is  gone,”  sobbed  Bella  indignantly, 
despairingly,  in  fifty  ways  at  once,  with  her  arms  round 
Mrs.  Boffin’s  neck.  He  has  been  most  shamefully  abused, 
and  most  unjustly  and  most  basely  driven  away,  and  I am 
the  cause  of  it  !” 

All  this  time  Mr.  Boffin  had  been  rolling  his  eyes  over 
his  loosened  neckerchief,  as  if  his  fit  were  still  upon  him. 
Appearing  now  to  think  that  he  was  coming  to,  he  stared 
straight  before  him  for  a while,  tied  his  neckerchief  again, 
took  several  long  inspirations,  swallowed  several  times, 
and  ultimately  exclaimed  with  a deep  sigh,  as  if*  he  felt 
himself  on  the  whole  better  : Well  !” 

Ho  word,  good  or  bad,  did  Mrs.  Boffin  say  ; but  she 


270 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


tenderly  took  care  of  Bella,  and  glanced  at  her  husband 
as  if  for  orders.  Mr.  Boffin,  without  imparting  any,  took 
his  seat  on  a chair  over  against  them,  and  there  sat  lean- 
ing forward,  with  a fixed  countenance,  his  legs  apart,  a 
hand  on  each  knee,  and  his  elbows  squared,  until  Bella 
should  dry  her  eyes  and  raise  her  head,  which  in  the  full, 
ness  of  time  she  did. 

I must  go  home/^  said  Bella,  rising  hurriedly.  I 
am  very  grateful  to  you  for  all  you  have  done  for  me,  but 
I can’t  stay  here.” 

My  darling  girl !”  remonstrated  Mrs.  Boffin. 

^^ISTo,  I can’t  stay  here,”  said  Bella;  I can’t  in- 
deed. Ugh  ! you  vicious  old  thing  !”  (This  to  Mr. 
Boffin.) 

Don’t  be  rash,  my  love,”  urged  Mrs.  Boffin.  Think 
well  of  what  you  do.” 

Yes,  you  had  better  think  well,”  said  Mr.  Boffin. 

I shall  never  more  think  well  of  you/^  cried  Bella, 
cutting  him  short,  with  intent  defiance  in  her  expressive 
little  eyebrows,  and  championship  of  the  late  Secretary  in 
every  dimple.  ^^No  ! never  again  I Your  money  has 
changed  you  to  marble.  You  are  a hard-hearted  Miser. 
You  are  worse  than  Dancer,  worse  than  Hopkins,  worse 
than  Blackberry  Jones,  worse  than  any  of  the  wretches. 
And  more  !”  proceeded  Bella,  breaking  into  tears  again, 
you  were  wholly  undeserving  of  the  Gentleman  you 
have  lost.” 

<<  Why,  you  don’t  mean  to  say.  Miss  Bella,”  the  Golden 
Dustman  slowly  remonstrated,  that  you  set  up  Eoke- 
smith  against  me  ?” 

I do  !”  said  Bella, 
you.” 


He  is  ivorth  a Million  of 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


an 


Yery  pretty  she  looked,  though  very  angry,  as  she 
made  herself  as  tall  as  she  possibly  could  (which  was  not 
extremely  tall,)  and  utterly  renounced  her  patron  with  a 
lofty  toss  of  her  rich  brown  head. 

I would  rather  he  thought  well  of  me,^^  said  Bella, 
though  he  swept  the  street  for  bread,  than  that  you  did, 
though  you  splashed  the  mud  upon  him  from  the  wheels 
of  a chariot  of  pure  gold.  There 

“ Well  Pm  sure  cried  Mr.  Boffin,  staring. 

And  for  a long  time  past,  when  you  have  thought 
you  set  yourself  above  him,  I have  only  seen  you  under 
his  feet,^’  said  Bella — There  I And  throughout  I saw 
in  him  the  master,  and  I saw  in  you  the  man — There  1 
And  when  you  used  him  shamefully,  I took  his  part  and 
loved  him — There  ! I boast  of  it 

After  which  strong  avowel,  Bella  underwent  reaction, 
and  cried  to  any  extent,  with  her  face  on  the  back  of  her 
chair. 

Now,  look  here, said  Mr.  Boffin,  as  soon  as  he  could 
find  an  opening  for  breaking  the  silence  and  striking  in. 
Give  me  your  attention,  Bella.  I am  not  arigry.^^ 

‘‘I  a?n  said  Bella. 

'‘I  say,’^  resumed  the  Golden  Dustman,  ‘‘I  am  not 
angry,  and  I mean  kindly  to  you,  and  I want  to  overlook 
this.  So  youdl  stay  where  you  are,  and  wedl  agree  to 
say  no  more  about  it.^^ 

'‘No,  I caffit  stay  here,”  cried  Bella,  rising  hurriedly 
again  ; “ I can- 1 think  of  staying  here.  I must  go  home 
for  good.” 

“ Now  donT  be  silly,”  Mr.  Boffin  reasoned.  “ DonT  do 
what  you  can’t  undo  ; don’t  do  what  you’re  sure  to  be 
sorry  for.” 


272 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


''  I shall  never  be  sorry  for  it,”  said  Bella  ; and  I 
should  always  be  sorry,  and  should  every  minute  of  my 
life  despise  myself,  if' I remained  here  after  what  has  hap- 
pened.” 

“ At  least,  Bella,”  argued  Mr.  Boffin,  “ let  there  be  no 
mistake  about  it.  Look  before  you  leap,  you  know. 
Stay  where  you  are,  and  alPs  well,  and  alPs  as  it  was  to 
be.  Go  away,  and  you  can  never  come  back.” 

I know  that  I can  never  come  back,  and  that^s  what 
I mean,”  said  Bella. 

‘^You  mustn^t  expect,”  Mr.  Boffin  pursued,  “that 
Pm  a-going  to  settle  money  on  you,  if  you  leave 
us  like  this,  because  I am  not.  No,  Bella  ! Be  careful  I 
Not  one  brass  farthing.” 

“ Expect !”  said  Bella,  haughtily.  “ Do  you  think  that 
any  power  on  earth  could  make  me  take  it,  if  you  did, 
Sir?” 

But  there  was  Mrs.  Boffin  to  part  from,  and,  in  the  full 
flush  of  her  dignity,  the  impressible  little  soul  collapsed 
again.  Down  upon  her  knees  before  that  good  woman, 
she  rocked  herself  upon  her  breast,  and  cried,  and  sobbed, 
and  folded  her  in  her  arms  with  all  her  might. 

“ You’re  a dear,  a dear,  the  best  of  dears  !”  cried  Bella. 
“ You’re  the  best  of  human  creatures.  I can  never  be 
thankful  enough  to  you,  and  can  never  forget  you.  If  I 
should  live  to  be  blind  and  deaf,  I know  I shall  see  and 
hear  you,  in  my  fancy,  to  the  last  of  my  dim  old  days  I” 

Mrs.  Boffin  wept  most  heartily,  and  embraced  her  with 
all  fondness  ; but  said  not  one  single  word,  except  that 
she  was  her  dear  girl.  She  said  that  often  enough,  to 
be  sure,  for  she  siiid  it  over  and  over  again  ; but  not  one 
word  else. 


OUPv  MPTtlAL  FRIEND. 


273 


Bella  broke  from  her  at  length,  and  was  going  weep- 
ing out  of  the  room,  when,  in  her  own  queer  little  affec- 
tionate way,  she  half  relented  toward  Mr.  Boffin. 

I am  very  glad/’  sobbed  Bella,  that  I called  you 
names,  Sir,  because  you  richly  deserved  it.  But  I am 
very  sorry  that  I called  you  names,  because  you  used  to 
be  so  different.  Say  good-by  !” 

Good-by,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  shortly. 

If  I knew  which  of  your  hands  was  the  least  spoiled, 
I would  ask  you  to  let  me  touch  it,”  said  Bella,  for  the 
last  time.  But  not  because  I repent  of  what  I have  said 
to  you.  For  I don’t.  It’s  true  I” 

“ Try  the  left  hand,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  holding  it  out  in 
a stolid  manner  ; “ it’s  the  least  used.” 

“ You  have  been  wonderfully  good  and  kind  to  me,” 
said  Bella,  ‘‘  and  I kiss  it  for  that.  You  have  been  as 
bad  as  bad  could  be  to  Mr.  Rokesmith,  and  I throw  it 
away  for  that.  Thank  you  for  myself,  and  good-by  I” 
Good-by,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  as  before. 

Bella  caught  him  round  the  neck  and  kissed  him,  and 
ran  out  forever. 

She  ran  up  stairs,  and  sat  down  on  the  floor  in  her  own 
room,  and  cried  abundantly.  But  the  day  was  declining, 
and  she  had  no  time  to  lose.  She  opened  all  the  places 
where  she  kept  her  dresses  ; selected  only  those  she  had 
brought  with  her,  leaving  all  the  rest  ; and  made  a great 
misshapen  bundle  of  them,  to  be  sent  for  afterward. 

I won’t  take  one  of  the  others,”  said  Bella,  tying  the 
knots  of  the  bundle  very  tight,  in  the  severity  of  her  reso- 
lution. ‘M’ll  leave  all  the  presents  behind,  and  begin 
again  entirely  on  my  own  account.”  That  the  resolution 
might  be  thoroughly  carried  into  practice,  she  even 


274 


OUE  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


changed  the  dress  she  wore,  for  that  in  which  she  had 
come  to  the  grand  mansion.  Even  the  bonnet  she  put  on 
was  the  bonnet  that -had  mounted  into  the  BofiQn  chariot 
at  Holloway. 

^'ISTow  I am  complete,’^  said  Bella.  Hs  a little  try- 
ing, but  I have  steeped  my  eyes  in  cold  water,  and  I 
won’t  cry  any  more.  You  have  been  a pleasant  room  to 
me,  dear  room.  Adieu  ! We  shall  never  see  each  other 
again. 

With  a parting  kiss  of  her  fingers  to  it  she  softly  closed 
the  door,  and  went  with  a light  foot  down  the  great  stair- 
case, pausing  and  listening  as  she  Went,  that  she  might 
meet  none  of  the  household.  No  one  chanced  to  be  about, 
and  she  got  down  to  the  hall  in  quiet.  The  door  of  the 
late  Secretary’s  room  stood  open.  She  peeped  in  as  she 
passed,  and  divined  from  the  emptiness  of  his  table^  and 
the  general  appearance  of  things,  that  he  was  alfeady 
gone.  Softly  opening  the  great  hall  door,  and  softly 
closing  it  upon  herself^  she  turned  and  kissed  it  on  the 
outside — insensible  old  combination  of  wood  and  iron  that 
it  was  ! — before  she  ran  away  from  the  house  at  a swift 
pace. 

That  was  well  done  !”  panted  Bella,  slackening  in  the 
next  street,  and  subsiding  into  a walk.  If  I had  left 
myself  any  breath  to  cry  with,  I should  have  cried  again. 
Now,  poor  dear  darling  little  Pa,  you  are  going  to  see 
your  lovely  woman  unexpectedly.” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


275 


CHAPTER  XYL 

• THS  FEAST  OF  THE  THREE  HOBGOBLINS. 

The  City  looked  unpromising  eiiougli  as  Bella  made 
her  way  along  its  gritty  streets.  Most  of  its  money-mills 
were  slackening  sail,  or  had  left  off  grinding  for  the  day. 
The  master-millers  had  already  departed,  and  the  journey- 
men were  departing.  There  was  a jaded  aspect  on  the 
business  lanes  and  courts,  and  the  very  pavements  had  a 
weary  appearance,  confused  by  the  tread  of  a million  of 
feet.  There  must  be  hours  of  night  to  temper  down  the 
day’s  distraction  of  so  feverish  a place.  As  yet  the  worry 
of  the  newly-stopped  whirling  and  grinding  on  the  part 
of  the  mone3"-mills  seemed  to  linger  in  the  air,  and  the 
quiet  v/as  more  like  the  prostration  of  a spent  giant  than 
the  repose  of  one  who  was  renewing  his  strength. 

If  Bella  thought,  as  she  glanced  at  the  mighty  Bank, 
how  agreeable  it  would  be  to  have  an  hour’s  gardening 
there,  with  a bright  copper  shovel,  among  the  money, 
still  she  was  not  in  an  avaricious  vein.  Much  improved 
in  that  respect,  and  with  certain  half-formed  images 
which  had  little  gold  in  their  composition,  dancing  before 
her  bright  eyes,  she  arrived  in  the  drug-flavored  region 
of  Mincing  Lane,  with  the  sensation  of  having  just  opened 
a drawer  in  a chemist’s  shop. 


276 


OUR  MUTUAT.  FRIEND. 


The  counting-house  of  Chicksey,  Veneering,  and  Stob- 
bles  was  pointed  out  by  an  elderly  female  accustomed  to 
the  care  of  offices,  wlio  dropped  upon  Bella  out  of  a pub- 
lic house,  wiping  her  moutli,  and  accounting  for  its  hu- 
midity on  natural  principles  well  known  to  the  physical 
sciences,  by  explaining  that  she  had  looked  in  at  the  door 
to  see  what  o^clock  it  was.  The  counting-house  was  a 
wall-eyed  ground-floor  by  a dark  gate-way,  and  Bella  was 
considering,  as  she  approached  it,  could  there  be  any  pre- 
cedent in  the  City  for  her  going  in  and  asking  for  R. 
Wilfer,  when  whom  should  she  see,  sitting  at  one  of  the 
windows  with  the  plate-glass  sash  raised,  but  R.  Wilfer 
himself,  preparing  to  take  a slight  refection  ! 

On  approaching  nearer,  Bella  discerned  that  the  refec- 
tion had  the  appearance  of  a small  cottage-loaf  and  a 
pennyworth  of  milk.  Simultaneously  with  this  discovery 
on  her  part,  her  father  discovered  her,  and  invoked  the 
echoes  of  Mincing  Lane  to  exclaim  “ My  gracious  me 
He  then  came  cherubically  flying  out  without  a hat, 
and  embraced  her,  and  handed  her  in.  ‘‘  For  iBs  after 
hours  and  I am  all  alone,  my  dear,’^  he  explained,  and 
am  having — as  I sometimes  do  when  they  are  all  gone — 
a quiet  tea.^’ 

Looking  round  the  office,  as  if  her  father  were  a cap- 
tive and  this  his  cell,  Bella  hugged  him  and  choaked  him 
to  her  heart’s  content. 

I never  was  so  surprised,  my  dear  !”  said  her  father. 
“ I couldn’t  believe  ray  eyes.  Upon  my  life,  I thought 
they  had  taken  to  lying  ! The  idea  of  your  coming  down 
the  Lane  yourself ! Why  didn’t  you  send  the  footman 
down  the  Lane,  my  dear  ?” 

"'I  have  brought  no  footman  with  me.  Pa.” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


277 


Oh  indeed  I But  you  have  brought  the  elegant 
turn-out,  my  love 

You  never  can  have  walked,  my  dear 

Yes,  I have.  Pa.” 

He  looked  so  very  much  astonished,  that  Bella  could 
not  make  up  her  mind  to  break  it  to  him  just  yet. 

The  consequence  is.  Pa,  that  yocir  lovely  woman  feels 
a little  faint,  and  would  very  much  like  to  share  youi 
tea.” 

The  cottage-loaf  and  the  pennyworth  of  milk  had  been 
set  forth  on  a sheet  of  paper  on  the  window-seat.  The 
cherubic  pocket-knife,  with  the  first  bit  of  the  loaf  still  on 
its  point,  lay  beside  them  where  it  had  been  hastily  throvm 
down.  Bella  took  the  bit  oif,  and  put  it  in  her  mouth. 

My  dear  child,”  said  her  father,  the  idea  of  your  par- 
taking of  such  lowly  fare  ! But  at  least  you  must  have 
your  own  loaf  and  your  own  penn^orth.  One  moment, 
my  dear.  The  Dairy  is  just  over  the  Avay  and  round  the 
corner.” 

Regardless  of  Bella’s  dissuasions,  he  ran  out,  and 
quickly  returned  with  the  new  supply.  “ My  dear  child,” 
he  said,  as  he  spread  it  on  another  piece  of  paper  before 
her,  “the  idea  of  a splendid — I”  and  then  looked  at  her 
figure,  and  stopped  short. 

“ What’s  the  matter.  Pa  ?” 

“ — of  a splendid  female,”  he  resumed  more  slowly, 
“ putting  up  with  such  accommodation  as  the  present  ! — 
Is  that  a new  dress  you  have  on,  my  dear  ?” 

“ No,  Pa,  an  old  one.  Don’t  you  remember  it  ?” 

“ Why,  I thought  I remembered  it,  my  dear  I” 

“ You  should,  for  you  bought  it.  Pa.” 


OtJE  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


278 

Yes,  1 thought  I bought  it,  my  dear  said  the  cher- 
ub, giving  himself  a little  shake,  as  if  to  rouse  his  faculties. 

And  have  you  grown  so  fickle  that  you  don^t  like 
your  own  taste,  Pa  dear 

Well,  my  love,’^  he  returned,  swallowing  a bit  of  the 
cottage-loaf  with  considerable  effort,  for  it  seemed  to 
stick  by  the  way  ; I should  have  thought  it  was  hardly 
sufficiently  splendid  fbr  existing  circumstances.^^ 

And  so,  Pa,”  said  Bella,  moving  coaxingly  to  his 
side  instead  of  remaining  opposite,  “ you  sometimes  have 
a quiet  tea  here  all  alone  ? I am  not  in  the  tea’s  way, 
if  I draw  my  arm  over  your  shoulder  like  this,  Pa  ?” 

''  Yes,  my  dear,  and  no,  my  dear.  Yes  to  the  first 
question,  and  Certainly  Not  to  the  second.  Respecting 
the  quiet  tea,  my  dear,  why  you  see  the  occupations  of 
the  day  are  sometimes  a little  wearing  ; and  if  there’s 
nothing  interposed  between  the  day  and  your  mother,  why 
sh-e  is  sometimes  a little  wearing,  too.” 

“ I know.  Pa.” 

Yes,  my  dear.  So  sometimes  I put  a quiet  tea  at 
the  window  here,  with  a little  quiet  contemplation  of 
the  Lane  (which  comes  soothing,)  between  the  day,  and 
domestic — ” 

Bliss,”  suggested  Bella,  sorrowfully. 

And  domestic  Bliss,”  said  her  father,  quite  contented 
to  accept  the  phrase. 

Bella  kissed  him.  And  it  is  in  this  dark  dingy  place 
of  captivity,  poor  dear,  that  you  pass  all  the  hours  of 
your  life  when  you  are  not  at  home  ?” 

Not  at  home,  or  not  on  the  road  there,  or  on  the 
road  here,  my  love.  Yes.  You  see  that  little  4|sk  in 
the  corner  ?” 


OUE  MUTUAL  EEIEE-D. 


279 


“ In  tlie  dark  corner,  furthest  both  from  the  light  and 
from  the  fire-place  ? The  shabbiest  desk  of  all  the 
desks  P 

'Now,  does  it  really  strike  you  in  that  point  of  view, 
my  dear  said  her  father,  surveying  it  artistically  with 
his  head  on  one  side  : “ that^s  mine.  That^s  called 
Rumty^s  Perch.^^ 

Whose  Perch  V’  asked  Bella  with  great  indig- 
nation. 

Bumpty’s.  You  see,  being  rather  high  and  up 
two  steps  they  call  it  a Perch.  And  they  call  me 
Rumpty.’^ 

How  dare  they  exclaimed  Bella. 

They^re  playful,  Bella  my  dear  ; theyh’e  playful. 
TheyTe  more  or  less  younger  than  I am,  and  theyTe 
playful.  What  does  it  matter  ? It  might  be  Surly,  or 
Sulky,  or  fifty  disagreeable  things  that  I really  shouldn’t 
like  to  be  considered.  But  Rumpty  ! Lor,  why  not 
Eumpty  ?” 

To  inflict  a heavy  disappointment  on  this  sweet  nature, 
which  had  been,  through  all  her  caprices,  the  object  of 
her  recognition,  love,  and  admiration  from  infancy,  Bella 
felt  to  be  the  hardest  task  of  her  hard  day.  “ I should 
have  done  better,”  she  thought,  to  tell  him  at  first  ; I 
should  have  done  better  to  tell  him  just  now,  when  he  had 
some  slight  misgiving  ; he  is  quite  happy  again,  and  I 
shall  make  him  wretched.’^ 

He  was  falling  back  on  his  loaf  and  milk,  with  the 
pleasantest  composure,  and  Bella  stealing  her  arm  a little 
closer  about  him,  and  at  the  same  time  sticking  up  his 
hair  with  an  irresistible  propensity  to  play  with  him 
founded  on  the  habit  of  her  whole  life,  had  prepared  her- 


280 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


self  to  say  ; Pa  dear,  don’t  be  cast  down,  but  I must 
tell  you  something  disagreeable  I”  when  he  interrupted 
her  in  an  unlooked-for  manner. 

My  gracious  me  1”  he  exclaimed,  invoking  the 
Mincing  Lane  echoes  as  before.  This  is  very  extra- 
ordinary !” 

' Wbat  is.  Pa  V' 

Why  here’s  Mr.  Kokesmith  now  !” 

No,  no,  Pa,  no,”  cried  Bella,  greatly  flurried. 

Surely  not.” 

‘‘Yes  there  is ! Look  here  !” 

Sooth  to  say,  Mr.  Rokesmith  not  only  passed  the  win- 
dow, but  came  into  the  counting-house.  And  not  only 
came  into  the  counting-house,  but,  finding  himself  alone 
there  with  Bella  and  her  father,  rushed  at  Bella  and 
caught  her  in  his  arms,  with  the  rapturous  words,  “ My 
dear,  dear  girl  ; my  gallant,  generous,  disinterested,  cour- 
ageous, noble  girl  I”  And  not  only  that  even  (which  one 
might  have  thought  astonishment  enough  for  one  dose,) 
but  Bella,  after  hanging  her  head  for  a moment,  lifted  it 
up  and  laid  it  on  his  breast,  as  if  that  were  her  head’s 
chosen  and  last  resting-place  1 

“ I knew  you  would  come  to  him,  and  I followed 
you,”  said  Rokesmith.  “ My  love,  my  life  ! You  are 
mine  ?” 

To  which  Bella  responded,  “ Yes,  I am  yours,  if  you 
think  me  worth  taking  !”  And  after  that,  seemed  to 
shrink  to  next  to  nothing  in  the  clasp  of  his  arms, 
partly  because  it  was  such  a strong  one  on  his  part, 
and  partly  because  there  was  such  a yielding  to  it 
on  hers. 

The  cherub,  whose  hair  w'ould  have  done  for  itself,  un- 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


281 


der  the  influence  of  this  amazing  spectacle,  what  Bella  had 
just  now  done  for  it,  staggered  back  into  the  window-seat 
from  which  he  had  risen,  and  surveyed  the  pair  with  his 
eyes  dilated  to  their  utmost. 

“ But  we  must  think  of  dear  Pa,^^  said  Bella  ; I haven't 
told  dear  Pa  ; let  us  speak  to  Pa.^^  Upon  which  they 
turned  to  do  so. 

‘‘I  wish  first,  my  dear,’^  remarked  the  cherub  faintly, 
that  you’d  have  the  kindness  to  sprinkle  me  with  a little 
milk,  for  I feel  as  if  I was — Going.” 

In  fact  the  good^  little  fellow  had  become  alarmingly 
limp,  and  his  senses  seemed  to  be  rapidly  escaping,  from 
the  knees  upward.  Bella  sprinkled  him  with  kisses 
instead  of  milk,  but  gave  him  a little  of  that  article 
to  drink  ; and  he  gradually  revived  under  her  caress- 
ing care. 

‘M¥e’ll  bre^k  it  to  you  gently,  dearest  Pa,”  s^d 
Bella. 

‘‘  My  dear,”  returned  the  cherub,  looking  at  them  both, 
“ you  broke  so  much  in  the  first — Gush,  if  I may  so  ex- 
press myself — that  I think  I am  equal  to  a good  large 
breakage  now.” 

“ Mr.  Wilfer,”  said  John  Kokesmith,  excitedly  and  joy- 
fully, Bella  takes  me,  though  I have  no  fortune,  even  no 
present  occupation  ; nothing  but  what  I can  get  in  the 
life  before  us.  Bella  takes  me  !” 

Yes,  I should  rather  have  inferred,  my  dear 
Sir,”  returned  the  cherub  feebly,  that  Bella  took 
you,  from  what  I have  within  these  few  minutes  re- 
marked.” 

You  don’t  know.  Pa,”  said  Bella  ^^how  ill  I have 
used  him !” 


282 


OUE  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


You  don^t  know,  Sir,’^  said  Rokesmitli,  what  a 
heart  she  has 

You  don’t  know,  Pa,”  said  Bella,  what  a shocking 
creature  I was  growing,  when  he  saved  me  from  myself  I” 
''  You  don’t  know.  Sir,”  said  Rokesmith,  “ what  a sac- 
rifice she  has  made  for  me  !’^ 

My  dear  Bella,”  replied  the  cherub,  still  pathetically 
scared,  “ and  my  dear  J ohn  Rokesmith,  if  you  will  allow 
me  so  to  call  you — ” 

Yes  do.  Pa,  do  !”  urged  Bella.  I allow  you, 
and  my  will  is  his  law.  Isn’t  it— dear  John  Roke- 
smith ?” 

There  was  an  engaging  shyness  in  Bella,  coupled 
with  an  engaging  tenderness  of  love’  and  confidence 
and  pride,  in  thus  first  calling  Inm  by  name,  which 
made  it  quite  excusable  in  John  Rokesmith  to  do  what 
l\p  did.  What  he  did  was,  once  more  to  give  her  the 
appearance  of  vanishing  as  aforesaid. 

I think,  my  dears,”  observed  the  cherub,  “ that  if 
3^ou  could  make  it  convenient  to  sit  one  on  one  side  of 
me,  and  the  other  on  the  other,  we  should  get  on 
rather  more  consecutively,  and  make  things  rather 
plainer.  John  Rokesmith  mentioned,  a while  ago, 
that  he  had  no  present  occupation.” 

‘hNone,”  said  Rokesmith. 

“.No,  Pa,  none,”  said  Bella. 

“ From  which  I argue,”  proceeded  the  cherub,  “ that 
he  has  left  Mr.  Boffin  ?” 

“ Yes,  Pa.  And  so — ” 

“ Stop  a bit,  my  dear.  I wish  to  lead  up  to  it  by 
degrees.  And  that  Mr.  Boffin  has  not  treated  him 
well  ?” 


OTJR  MUTUAL  FilTEND. 


283 


Has  treated  him  most  shamefully,  dear  Pa  cried 
Bella  with  a flashing  face.. 

Of  which,’’  pursued  the  cherub,  enjoining  patience 
with  his  hand,  a certain  mercenary  young  person 
distantly  related  to  myself,  could  not  approve  ? Am 
I leading  up  to  it  right 

Gould  not  approve,  sweet  Pa,”  said  Bella,  with  a 
tearful  laugh  and  a joyful  kiss. 

Upon  which,”  pursued  the  cherub,,  “the  certain 
mercenary  young  person  distantly  related  to  myself, 
having  previously  observed  and  mentioned  to  myself 
that  prosperity  was  spoiling  Mr.  Boffin,  felt  that  she 
must  not  sell  her  sense  of  what  was  right  and  what 
was  wrong,  and  what  was  true  and  what  was  false, 
and  what  was  just  and  what  v/as  unjust,  for  any  price 
that  could  be  paid  to  her  by  any  one  alive  ? Am  I 
leading  up  to  it  right  ?” 

With  another  tearful  laugh  Bella  joyfully  kissed  him 
again. 

“ And  therefore — and  therefore,”  the  cherub  went 
on  in  a glowing  voice,  as  Bella’s  hand  stole  gradually^ 
up  his  waistcoat  to  his  neck,  “ this  mercenary  young 
person  distantly  related  to  myself,  refused  the  price, 
took  off  the  splendid  fashions  that  were  part  of  it,  put 
on  the  comparatively  poor  dress  that  I had  last  given 
her,  and  trusting  to  my  supporting  her  in  what  was 
right,  came  straight  to  me.  Have  I led  up  to  it  ?” 

Bella’s  hand  was  round  his  neck  by  this  time,  and 
her  face  was  on  it. 

“ The  mercenary  young  person  distantly  related  to 
myself,”  said  her  good  father,  “ did  well  1 The  mer- 
cenary young  person  distantly  related  to  myself  did 


284 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


not  trust  to  me  in  vain  ! I admire  this  mercenary 
young  person  distantly  related  to  myself,  more  in  this 
dress  than  if  she  had  come  to  me  in  China  silks,  Cash- 
mere  shawls,  and  Golconda  diamonds.  I love  this 
young  person  dearly.  I say  to  the  man  of  this  young 
person’s  heart,  out  of  my  heart  and  with  all  of  it,  ^ My 
blessing  on  this  engagement  betwixt  you,  and  she 
brings  you  a good  fortune  when  she  brings  you  the 
poverty  she  has  accepted  for  your  sake  and  the  honest 
truth’s  !” 

The  stanch  little  man’s  voice  failed  him  as  he  gave 
John  Eokesmith  his  hand,  and  he  was  silent,  bending 
his  face  low  over  his  daughter.  But  not  for  long.  He 
soon  looked  up,  saying  in  a sprightly  tone  : 

And  now,  my  dear  child,  if  you  think  you  can  en- 
tertain John  Eokesmith  for  a minute  and  a half.  I’ll 
run  over  to  the  Dairy,  and  fetch  him  a cottage  loaf 
and  a drink  of  milk,  that  we  may  all  have  tea  to- 
gether.” 

It  was,  as  Bella  gayly  said,  like  the  supper  provided 
for  the  three  nursery  hobgoblins  at  their  house  in  the 
forest,  without  their  thunderous  low  growlings  of  the 
alarming  discovery,  Somebody’s  been  drinking  my 
milk  !”  It  was  a delicious  repast  ; by  far  the  most 
delicious  that  Bella,  or  John  Eokesmith,  or  even  E. 
Wilfer  had  ever  made.  The  uncongenial  oddity  of  its 
surroundings,  with  the  two  brass  knobs  of  the  iron 
safe  of  Chicksey,  Veneering,  and  Stobbles  staring 
from  a corner,  like  the  eyes  of  some  dull  dragon,  only 
made  it  the  more  delightful. 

^^To  think,”  said  the  cherub,  looking  round  the 
office  with  UDSoeakable  enjoyment,  “ that  any  thing 


OtJR  MUTUAL  FHIENB. 


285 


of  a tender  nature  should  come  off  here,  is  what  tickles 
*■  me.  To  think  that  ever  I should  have  seen  my  Bella 
folded  in  the  arms  of  her  future  husband,  here  you 
know  !” 

It  was  not  until  the  cottage  loaves  and  milk  had  for 
some  time  disappeared,  and  the  foreshadowings  of 
night  were  creeping  over  Mincing  Lane,  that  the 
cherub  by  degrees  became  a little  nervous,  and  said 
to  Bella,  as  he  cleared  his  thrpat : 

Hem  !- — Have  you  thought  at  all  about  your  mo« 
ther,  my  dear  ?” 

Yes,  Pa.” 

‘‘  And  your  sister  Lavvy,  for  instance,  my  dear  ?” 

“ Yes,  Pa.  I think  we  had  better  not  enter  into 
particulars  at  home.  I think  it  will  be  quite  enough 
to  say  that  I had  a difference  with  Mr.  Boffin,  and 
have  left  for  good.” 

‘‘  John  Eokesmith  being  acquainted  with  your  Ma, 
my  love,’^  said  her  father,  after  some  slight  hesitation, 

I need  have  no  delicacy  in  hinting  before  him  that 
you  may  perhaps  find  your  Ma  a little  wearing.” 

“ A little,  patient  Pa  ?”  said  Bella  with  a tuneful 
laugh  : the  tunefuler  for  being  so  loving  in  its 
tone. 

“ Well  ! We’ll  say,  strictly  in  confidence  among 
ourselves,  wearing  ; we  won’t  qualify  it,”  the  cherub 
stoutly  admitted.  And  your  sister’s  temper  is  wear- 
ing.” 

“ I don’t  mind,  Pa.” 

And  you  must  prepare  yourself,  you  know,  my  pre- 
cious,” said  her  father,  with  much  gentleness,  ''for 
our  looking  very  poor  and  meagre  at  home,  and  being 


286  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIKKB^ 

at  tlie  best  but  very  uncomfortable,  after  Mr.  BofSn^s 
bouse.” 

I don’t  mind,  Pa.  I could  bear  much  harder  trials 
— for  John.” 

The  closing*  words  were  not  so  softly  and  blushingly 
said  but  that  John  heard  them,  and  showed  that  he 
heard  them  by  again  assisting  Bella  to  another  of 
those  mysterious  disappearances. 

Well  !”  said  the  cherub  gayly,  and  not  express- 
ing disapproval,  when  you — -when  you  come  back 
from  retirement,  my  love,  and  reappear  on  the  surface, 
I think  it  will  be  time  to  lock  up  and  go.” 

If  the  counting-house  of  Chicksey,  Yeneering,  and 
Stobbles  had  ever  been  shut  up  by  three  happier  peo- 
ple, glad  as  most  people  were  to  shut  it  up,  they  must 
have  been  superlatively  happy  indeed.  But  first  Bella 
mounted  upon  Eumty’s  Perch,  and  said,  Show  me 
what  you  do  here  all  day  long,  dear  Pa.  Do  you  write 
like  this  laying  her  round  cheek  upon  her  plump  left 
arm,  and  losing  sight  of  her  pen  in  waves  of  hair,  in 
a highly  unbusiness-like  mariner.  Though  John  Poke- 
smith  seemed  to  like  ifc. 

So  the  three  hobgoblins,  having  effaced  all  traces  of 
their  feast,  and  swept  up  the  crumbs,  came  out  of 
Mincing  Lane  to  walk  to  Holloway  ; and  if  two  of  the 
hobgoblins  didn’t  wish  the  distance  twice  as  long  as 
it  was,  the  third  hobgoblin  was  much  mistaken.  In- 
deed, that  modest  spirit  deemed  himself  so  much  iu 
the  way  of  their  deep  enjoyment  of  the  journey  that 
he  apologetically  remarked  ; I think,  my  dears.  I’ll 
take  the  lead  on  the  other  side  of  the  road,  and  seem 
not  to  belong  to  you.”  Which  he  did,  cherubically 


OUK  MtTTUAL  FlilEND- 


287 


.strewing  the,  path  with  smiles,  in  the  absence  of 
flowers. 

It  was  almost  ten  o’clock  when  they  stopped  within 
view  of  Wilfer  Castle  ; and  then,  the  spot  being  qniet 
and  deserted,  Bella  began  a series  of  disappearances 
which  threatened  to  last  all  night. 

“ I think,  John,”  the  cherub  hinted  at  last,  “ that  if 
you  can  spare  me  the  young  person  distantly  related 
to  myself,  I’ll  take  her  in  ” 

“I  can’t  spare  her,”  answered  John,  but  I 
must  lend  her  to  you — My  Darling  !”  A word  of 
magic  which  caused  Bella  instantly  to  disappear 
again. 

Now,  dearest  Pa,”  said  Bella,  when  she  became 
visible,  put  your  hand  in  mine,  and  we’il  run  home 
as  fast  as  ever  we  can  run,  and  get  it  over.  Now, 
Pa.  Once  I — 

My  dear,”  the  cherub  faltered,  with  something  of 
a craven  air,  ‘‘  I was  going  to  observe  that  if  your 
mother — ” 

You  mustn’t  hang  back.  Sir,  to  gain  time,”  cried 
Bella,  putting  out  her  right  foot  • “ do  you  see  that, 
Sir  ? That’s  the  mark  ; come  up  to  the  mark,  Sir. 
Once  ! Twice  ! Three  times  and  away,  Pa  I”  Off 
she  skimmed,  bearing  the  cherub  along,  nor  ever  stop- 
ped, nor  suffered  him  to  stop,  until  she  had  pulled  at 
the  bell.  Now,  dear  Pa,”  said  Bella,  taking  him  by 
both  ears  as  if  he  were  a pitcher,  and  conveying  his 
face  to  her  rosy  lips,  “ we  are  in  for  it  !” 

Miss  Lavvy  came  out  to  open  the  gate,  waited  on 
by  that  attentive  cavalier  and  friend  of  the  family, 
Mr.  George  Sainpsom.  Why,  it’s  never  Bella  I”  cx- 


288 


OTJR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


claimed  Miss  Lavvy,  starting  back  at  the  sight.  And 
then  bawled,  Ma  ! Kerens  Bella  P’ 

This  produced,  before  they  could  get  into  the  house, 
Mrs.  Wilfer.  Who,  standing  in  the  portal,  received 
them  with  ghostly  gloom,  and  all  her  other  appliances 
of  ceremony. 

My  child  is  welcome,  though  unlooked  for,’^  said 
she,  at  the  time  presenting  her  cheek  as  if  it  were  a 
cool  slate  for  visitors  to  enroll  themselves  upon. 
“ You,  too,  R.  W.,  are  welcome,  though  late.  Does 
the  male  domestic  of  Mrs.  Boffin  hear  me  there 
This  deep-toned  inquiry  w^as  cast  forth  into  the  night, 
for  response  from  the  menial  in  question. 

There  is  no  one  waiting,  Ma,  dear,’’  said  Bella. 

There  is  no  one  waiting  ?”  repeated  Mrs.  Wilfer, 
in  majestic  accents. 

‘‘  No,  Ma  dear.” 

A dignified  shiver  pervaded  Mrs.  Wilfer’s  shoulders 
and  gloves,  as  who  should  say,  ‘‘  An  Enigma  !”  and 
then  she  marched  at  the  head  of  the  procession  to  the 
family  keeping  room,  where  she  observed  : 

''Unless,  R.  W. who  started  on  being  solemnly 
turned  upon  : " you  have  taken  the  precaution  of  mak- 
ing some  addition  to  our  frugal  supper  on  your  way 
home,  it  will  prove  but  a distasteful  one  to  Bella. 
Cold  neck  of  mutton  and  a lettuce  can  ill  compete 
with  the  luxuries  of  Mr.  Boffin’s  board.”  ^ 

"Pray  don’t  talk  like  that,  Ma  dear,”  said  Bella  ; 
Mr.  Boffin’s  board  is  nothing  to  me.” 

But,  here  Miss  Lavinia,  who  had  been  intently  eye- 
ing Bella’s  bonnet,  struck  in  with  '‘Why,  Bella  1” 

" Yes,  Lavvy,  I know.” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FKIEND. 


289 


The  Irreprassible  lowered  her  eyes  to  Bella’s  dress, 
end  stooped  to  look  at  it,  exclaiming  again  : Why. 

Bella  1” 

Yes,  Lavv3%‘  I know  what  I have  got  on.  I was 
going  to  tell  Ma  when  interrupted.  I have  left 
Mr.  Boffin’s  house  for  good,  Ma,  and  I have  come  home 
again,” 

Mrs.  Wilfer  spake  no  word,  but,  having  glared  at 
her  ofispring  for  a minute  or  two  in  an  awful  silence, 
retired  into  her  corner  of  state  backward,  and  sat 
down  : like  a frozen  article  on  sale  in  a Russian 
market. 

In  short,  dear  Ma,”  said  Bella,  taking  off  the  de- 
preciated bonnet  and  shaking  out  her  hair,  I have 
had  a very  serious  difference  with  Mr.  Boffin  on  the 
subject  of  his  treatment  of  a member  of  his  house- 
hold, and  it’s  a final  difference,  and  there’s  an  end  of 
all. 

“ And  I am  bound  to  tell  you,  my  dear,”  added  R, 
W.,  submissively^  that  Bella  has  acted  in  a truly 
brave  spirit,  and  wutli  a truly  right  feeling.  And 
therefore  I hope,  my  dear,  you’ll  not  allow  yourself  to 
be  greatly  disappointed.” 

George  !” — said  Miss  Lavvy,  in  a sepulchral  warning 
voice,  founded  on  her  mother’s — ‘‘  George  Sampson, 
speak  ! What  did  I tell  you  about  those  Boffins  ?” 

Mr.  Sampson,  perceiving  his  frail  bark  to  be  laboring 
among  shoals  and  breakers,  thought  it  safest  not  to  refer 
back  to  any  particular  thing  that  he  had  been  told,  lest 
he  should  refer  back  to  the  wrong  thing.  With  admira- 
ble seamanship  he  got  his  bark  into  deep  water  by  mur- 
muring, Y'es,  indeed.” 


290 


OUK  MUTUAL  FKIEND. 


Yes  ! I told  George  Sampson,  as  George  Sampson 
tells  you,^^  said  Miss  Lavvy,  tliat  those  hateful  Boffins 
would  pick  a quarrel  with  Bella  as  soon  as  her  novelty 
had  worn  off.  Have  they  done  it,  or  have  they  not  ? 
Was  I right,  or  was  I wrong  ? And  what  do  you  say  to 
us,  Bella,  of  your  Boffins  now 

“ Lavvy  and  Ma,^^  said  Bella,  I say  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Boffin  wliat  I always  have  said  ; and  I always  shall  say 
of  them  wiiat  I always  have  said.  But  nothing  will  in- 
duce me  to  quarrel  with  any  one  to-night.  I hope  you 
are  not  sorry  to  see  me,  Ma  deai7^  kissing  her  ; “ and  I 
hope  you  are  not  sorry  to  see  me,  Lavvy,^^  kissing  her,  ^ 
too  ; and  as  I notice  the  lettuce  Ma  mentioned  on  the 
table,  Vll  make  the  salid.^^ 

Bella  playfully  setting  herself  about  the  task,  Mrs. 
Wilfer^s  impressive  countenance  followed  her  with  glaring 
eyes,  presenting  a combination  of  the  once  popular  sign 
of  the  Saracen’s  Head,  with  a piece  of  Dutch  clock-work, 
and  suggesting  to  an  imaginative  mind  that  from  the  com- 
position of  the  salid  her  daughter  might  prudently  omit 
the  vinegar.  But  no  word  issued  from  the  majestic  ma- 
tron’s lips.  And  this  was  more  terrific  to  her  husband 
(as  perhaps  she  knew)  than  any  flow  of  eloquence  with 
which  she  could  have  edified  the  company. 

‘‘  JS'ow,  Ma  dear,”  said  Bella,  in  due  course,  “ the  salid^s 
ready,  and  it’s  past  supper-time.” 

“ Mrs.  Wilfer  rose,  but  remained  speechless.  George  !’^ 
said  Miss  Lavinia,  in  her  voice  of  warning,  “ Ma’s  chair  !” 
Mr.  Sampson  flew  to  the  excellent  lady’s  back,  and  fol- 
lowed her  up  close,  chair  in  hand,  as  she  stalked  to  the 
banquet.  Arrived  at  the  table,  she  took  her  rigid  seat, 
after  favoring  Mr.  Sampson  with  a glare  for  himself, 


OtTlt  HCTTtTAL  FEIEND. 


.291 


which  caused  the  young  gentleman  to  retire  to  his  place 
ill  ranch  confusion. 

The  cherub  not  presuming  to  address  so  tremendous  an 
object,  transacted  her  supper  through  the  agency  of  a 
third  person,  as  Mutton  to  your  Ma,  Bella,  my  dear  f 
and  Lavvy,  I dare  say  your  Ma  would  take  some  let- 
tuce, if  you  were  to  put  it  on  her  plate/^  Mrs.  Wilfer’s 
manner  of  receiving  those  viands  was  marked  by  petrified 
absence  of  mind  ; in  which  state,  likewise,  she  partook  of 
them,  occasionally  laying  down  her  knife  and  fork,  and 
saying  within  her  own  spirit,  “ What  is  this  I am  doing 
and  glaring  at  one  or  other  of  the  party,  as  if  in  indignant 
search  of  information.  A magnetic  result  of  such  glaring 
w^as,  that  the  person  glared  at  could  not  by  any  means 
successfully  pretend  to  be  ignorant  of  the  fact  ; so  that  a 
by-stander,  without  beholding  Mrs.  Wilfer  at  all,  must 
have  known  at  whom  she  was  glaring,  by  seeing  her  re- 
fracted from  the  countenance  of  the  beglared  one. 

Miss  Lavinia  was  extremely  affable  to  Mr.  Sampson  ou 
this  special  occasion,  and  took  the  opportunity  of  inform- 
ing her  sister  why. 

“ It  was  not  worth  troubling  you  about,  Bella,  when 
you  were  in  a sphere  so  far  removed  from  your  family  as 
to  make  it  a matter  in  which  you  could  be  expected  to  take 
very  little  interest,’^  said  Lavinia,  with  a toss  x)f  her  chin  j 
but  George  Sampson  is  paying  his  addresses  to  me.’^ 
Bella  was  glad  to  hear  it.  Mr.  Sampson  became 
thoughtfully  red,  and  felt  called  upon  to  encircle  Miss  La- 
vinia^s  waist  with  his  arm  ; but,  encountering  a large  pin 
in  the  young  lady^s  belt,  scarified  a finger,  uttered  a sharp 
exclamation,  and  attracted  the  lightning  of  Mrs.  Wilfer’s 
glare. 


292 


OtJB  ^rtTTtJAt 


Gearge  is  getting  on  very  well,’’  said  Miss  Lavinia-*^ 
wliicli  might  not  have  been  supposed  at  the  moment — ^ 
^‘and  I d^re  say  we  shall  be  married  one  of  these  days. 
I didn’t  care  to  mention  it  when  you  were  with  your 
Bof — ” here  Miss  Lavinia  checked  herself  in  a bounce, 
and  added  more  placidly,  when  you  were  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Boffin  ; but  now  I think  it  sisterly  to  name  the  cir- 
cumstance.” ^ 

“ Thank  you,  Lavvy  dear.  I congratulate  you.” 

“ Thank  you,  Bella.  The  truth  is,  George  and  I did 
discuss  whether  I should  tell  you  ; but  I said  to  George 
that  you  wouldn’t  be  much  interested  in  so  paltry  an 
affiair,  and  that  it  was  far  more  likely  you  Would  rather 
detach  yourself  from  us  altogether,  than  hate  him  added 
to  the  rest  of  us.” 

That  was  a mistake,  dear  Lavvy,”  said  Bella. 

It  turns  out  to  be,”  replied  Miss  Lavinia  ; but  cir- 
cumstances have  changed,  you  know,  my  dear.  George  is 
in  a new  situation,  and  his  prospects  are  very  good  indeed. 
I shouldn’t  have  had  the  courage  to  tell  you  so  yesterday, 
when  you  would  have  thought  his  prospects  poor,  and  not 
worth  notice  ; but  I feel  quite  bold  to-night.” 

When  did  you  begin  to  feel  timid,  Lavvy  ?”  inquired 
Bella,  with  a smile. 

I didn’t  say  that  I ever  felt  timid,  Bella,”  replied  the 
Irrepressible.  “ But  perhaps  I might  have  said,  if  I liad 
not  been  restrained  by  delicacy  towa.rd  a sister’s  feelings, 
that  I have  for  some  time  felt  independent  ; too  indepen- 
dent, my  dear,  to  subject  myself  to  have  my  intended 
match  (you’ll  prick  yourself  again,  George)  looked  down 
upon.  It  is  not  that  I could  have  blamed  you  for  looking 
down  upon  it,  when  you  were  looking  up  to  a rich  and 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


293 


great  match,  Bella ; it  is  only  that  I was  indepen- 
dent.’’ 

Whether  the  Irrepressible  felt  slighted  by  Bella’s  de- 
claration that  she  would  not  quarrel,  or  whether  her  spite- 
fulness was  evoked  by  Bella’s  return  to  the  sphere  of  Mr. 
George  Sampson’s  courtship,  or  whether  it  was  a neces- 
sary fillip  to  her  spirits  that  she  should  come  into  collision 
with  somebody  on  the  present  occasion — any  how  she 
made  a dash  at  her  stately  parent  now,  with  the  greatest 
impetuosity. 

Ma,  pray  don’t  sit  staring  at  me  in  that  intensely  ag- 
gravating manner  ! If  ’you  see  a black  on  my  nose,  tell 
me  so  ; if  you  don’t,  leave  me  alone.” 

Do  you  address  Me  in  those  words  ?”  said  Mrs.  Wil- 
fer.  “Do  you  presume  ?” 

“ Don’t  talk  about  presuming,  Ma,  for  goodness’  sake. 
A girl  who  is  old  enough  to  be  engaged,  is  quite  old 
enough  to  object  to  be  stared  at  as  if  she  was  a 
Clock.” 

“ Audacious  one  !”  said  Mrs.  Wilfer.  “'Your  grand- 
mamma, if  so  addressed  by  one  of  her  daughters,  at  any 
age,  would  have  insisted  on  her  retiring  to  a dark  apart- 
ment.” 

“ My  grandmamma,”  returned  Lavvy,  folding  her  arms 
and  leaning  back  in  her  chair,  “ v/ouldn’t  have  sat  staring 
people  out  of  countenance,  I think.” 

“ She  would,”  said  Mrs.  Wilfer. 

“ Then  it’s  a pity  she  didn’t  know  better,”  said  Lavvy. 
“ And  if  my  grandmamma  wasn’t  in  her  dotage  when  she 
took  to  insisting  on  people’s  retiring  to  dark  apartments, 
she  ought  to  have  been.  A pretty  exhibition  my  grand- 
mamma must  have  made  of  herself  1 I wonder  whether 


294 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND, 


she  ever  insisted  on  people’s  retiring  into  the  ball  of  St. 
Paul’s  ; and  if  she  did,  how  she  got  them  there  !” 

Silence  !”  proclaimed  Mrs.  Wilfer.  I command 
silence  !” 

I'  have  not  the  slightest  intention  of  being  silent, 
Ma,”  returned  Lavinia,  coolly,  but  “ quite  the  contrary. 
I am  not  going  to  be  eyed  as  if  I had  come  from  the 
Boffins,  and  sit  silent  under  it.  I am  not  going  to  have 
George  Sampson  eyed  as  if  he  had  come  from  the  Boffins, 
and  sit  silent  under  it.  If  Pa  thinks  proper  to  be  eyed  as 
if  he  had  come  from  the  Boffins  also,  well  and  good.  I 
don’t  choose  to.  And  I won’t  !” 

Lavinia’s  engineering  having  made  this  crooked  opening 
at  Bella,  Mrs.  Wilfer  strode  into  it. 

You  rebellious  spirit  ! You  mutinous  child  ! Tell 
me  this,  Lavinia.  If,  in  violation  of  your  mother’s  sen- 
timents, you  had  condescended  to  allow  yourself  to  be 
patronized  by  the  Boffins,  and  if  you  had  come  from  those 
halls  of  slavery — ” 

‘‘  That’s  mere  nonsense,  Ma,”  said  Lavinia. 

How  !”  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wilfer,  with  sublime  se- 
verity. 

Halls  of  slavery,  Ma,  is  mere  stuff  and  nonsense,”  re- 
turned the  unmoved  Irrepressible. 

''  I say,  presumptuous  child,  if  you  had  come  from  the 
neighborhood  of  Portland  Place,  bending  under  the  yoke 
of  patronage  and  attended  by  its  domestics  in  glittering 
garb  to  visit  me,  do  you  think  my  deep-seated  feelings 
could  have  been  expressed  in  looks  ?” 

All  I think  about  it  is,”  returned  Lavinia,  “ that  I 
should  wish  them  expressed  to  the  right  person.” 

And  if,”  pursued  her  mother,  if  making  light  of  my 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRTMD. 


295 


warmings  that  the  face  of  Mrs.  Boffin  alone  was  a face 
teeic.ing  with  evil,  }'Oii  had  clung  to  Mrs.  Boffin  instead  of 
to  me,  and  had  after  all  come  home  rejected  by  Mrs.  Bof- 
fin, trampled  under  foot  by  Mrs.  Boffin,  and  cast  out  by 
Mrs.  Boffin,  do  yon  think  my  feelings  could  have  been  ex- 
pressed in  looks 

Lavinia  was  about  replying  to  her  honored  parent  that 
she  might  as  well  have  dispensed  with  her  looks  altogether 
then,  when  Bella  rose  and  said,  Good-night,  dear  Ma. 
I have  liad  a tiring  day,  and  1^11  go  to  bed.^^  This  broke 
up  the  agreeable  party.  Mr.  George  Sampson  shortly 
afterward  took  his  leave,  accompanied  by  Miss  Lavinia 
with  a candle  as  far  as  the  hall,  and  without  a candle  as 
far  as  the  g'arden-gate  ; Mrs.  Wilfer,  washing  her  hands 
of  the  Boffins,  went  to  bed  after  the  manner  of  Lady 
Macbeth  ; and  B.  W.  was  left  alone  among  the  di- 
lapidations of  the  supper-table,  in  a melancholy  at- 
titude. 

But  a light  footstep  roused  him  from  his  meditations, 
and  it  was  Bella’s.  Her  pretty  hair  was  hanging  all 
about  her,  and  she  had  tripped  down  softly,  brush  in  hand, 
and  barefoot,  to  say  good-night  to  him. 

“ My  dear,  you  most  unquestionably  are,  a lovely 
woman,”  said  the  cherub,  taking  up  a tress  in  his  hand. 

“ Look  here.  Sir,”  said  Bella  ; when  your  lovely 
woman  marries,  you  shall  have  that  piece  if  you  like,  and 
she’ll  make  you  a chain  of  it.  Would  you  prize  that  re- 
membrance of  the  dear  creature 
Yes,  my  precious.” 

“ Then  you  shall  have  it  if  you’re  good.  Sir.  I am 
very,  very  sorry,  dearest  Pa,  to  have  brought  home  all 
this  trouble.” 


296  ' OUS  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

My  pet,”  retunied  her  father,  in  the  simplest  good 
faith,  don^t  make  yourself  uneasy  about  that.  It  really 
is  not  worth  mentioning,  because  things  at  home  would 
liave  taken  pretty  much  the  same  turn  any  way.  If  your 
mother  and  sister  don’t  find  one  subject  to  get  at  times  a 
little  wearing  on,  they  find  another.  We’re  never  out 
of  a wearing  subject,  ray  dear,  I assure  you.  I am  afraid 
you  find  your  old  room  with  Lavvy  dreadfully  incori- 
venient,  Bella  ?” 

No  I don’t,  Pa  ; I don’t  mind.  Wi)y  don’t  I mind, 
do  you  think.  Fa  ?” 

''Well,  my  child,  you  used  to  complain  of  it  when  it 
wasn’t  such  a contrast  as  it  must  be  now.  Upon  my  word, 
I can  only  answer,  because  you  are  so  much  improved.” 
Pa.  Because  I am  so  thankful  and  so  happy  !” 
Here  she  choked  him  until  her  long  hair  made  him 
sneeze,  and  then  she  laughed  until  she  made  him  laugh, 
and  then  she  choked  liim  again  that  they  might  not  be 
overheard. 

Listen,  Sir,”  said  Bella.  ''Your  lovely  woman  was 
told  her  fortune  to-night  on  her  way  home.  It  won’t  be 
a large  fortune,  because  if  the  lovely  woman’s  Intended 
gets  a certain  appointment  that  he  hopes  to  get  soon,  she 
will  marry  on  a hundred  and  fifty  pounds  a year.  But 
that’s  at  first,  and  even  if  it  should  never  be  more,  the 
lovely  woman  will  make  it  quite  enough.  But  that’s  not 
all,  Sir.  In  the  fortune  there’s  a certain  fair  man — a lit- 
tle man,  the  fortune-teller  said — who,  it  seems,  will  always 
find  himself  near  the  lovely  woman,  and  will  always  have 
kept,  expressly  for  him-,  such  a peaceful  corner  in  the  lov- 
]y  woman’s  little  house  as  never  was.  Tell  me  the  name 
of  that  man,  Sir.” 


OUB  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


297 


Is  he  a knave  in  the  pack  of  cards  inquired  the 
cherub,  with  a twinkle  in  his  eyes. 

“ Yes  cried  Bella,  in  high  glee,  choking  him  again. 
‘‘  He’s  the  Knave  of  Wiifers  I Dear  Pa,  the  lovely  wo- 
man means  to  look  forward  to  this  fortune  that  has  been 
told  for  lier,  so  delightfully,  and  to  cause  it  to  make  her 
a much  better  lovely  woman  than  she  ever  has  been  yet. 
What  the  little  fair  ma,n  is  expected  to  do,  Sir,  s 
to  look  forward  to  it  also,  by  saying  to  himself  when 
he  is  in  danger  of  being  over- worried,  ‘ I see  land  at 
last  !’ 

“ I see  land  at  last  !”  repeated  her  father. 

There’s  a dear  Knave  of  Wiifers  !”  exclaimed  Bella  ; 
then  putting  out  her  small  white  bare  foot,  That’s  the 
mark.  Sir.  Come  to  the  mark.  Put  your  boot  against 
it.  We  keep  to  it  together,  mind  ! Now,  Sir,  you  may 
kiss  the  lovely  woman  before  she  runs  away,  so  thank- 
ful and  so  happy.  O yes,  fair  little  man,  so  thankful  and 
so  happy  !” 


298 


OUH  MUTUAL  FKtEND. 


CHAPTER  XYIL 

A SOCIAL  CHORUS. 

Amazement  sits  enthroned  upon  the  countenances  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Alfred  Lammle’s  circle  of  acquaintance, 
when  the  disposal  of  their  first-class  furniture  and  effects 
(including  a Billiard  Table  in  capital  letters),  by  auction, 
under  a bill  of  sale/’  is  publicly  announced  on  a waving 
hearth-rug  in  Sackville  Street.  But  nobody  is  half  so 
much  amazed  as  Hamilton  Veneering,  Esquire,  M.  P.  for 
Pocket  Breaches,  who  instantly  begins  to  find  out  that 
the  Lammles  are  the  only  people  ever  entered  on  his 
soul’s  register  who  are  not  the  oldest  and  dearest  friends 
he  has  in  the  world.  Mrs.  Veneering,  W.M.P.  for  Pocket 
Breaches,  like  a faithful  wife  shares  her  husband’s  dis-* 
covery  and  inexpressible  astonishment.  Perhaps  the 
Veneerings  twain  may  deem  the  last  unutterable  feeling 
particularly  due  to  their  reputation,  by  reason  that  once 
upon  a time  some  of  the  longer  heads  in  the  City  are 
whispered  to  have  shaken  themselves,  when  Veneering’s 
extensive  dealings  and  great  wealth  were  mentioned. 
But  it  is  certain  that  neither  Mr.  nor  Mrs.  Veneering  can 
find  woi'ds  to  wonder  in,  and  it  becomes  necessary  that 
they  give  to  the  oldest  and  dearest  friends  they  have  in 
the  world  a wondering  dinner. 

For  it  is  by  this  time  noticeable  that,  whatever  befalls, 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


299 


the  Yeneeriiigs  must  give  a dinner  upon  it.  Lady  Tip- 
pins  lives  ill  a chronic  state  of  invitation  to  dine  with  the 
Veneerings,  and  in  a chronic  state  of  inflammation  arising 
from  the  dinners.  Boots  and  Brewer  go  about  in  cabs, 
with  no  other  intelligible  business  on  earth  than  to  beat 
up  people  to  come  and  dine  with  the  Yeneerings. 
Yeneering  pervades  the  legislative  lobbies,  intent  upon 
entrapping  his  fellow-legislators  to  dinner.  Mrs.  Yeneer- 
ing dined  with  five-and-twenty  bran-new  faces  overnight  ; 
calls  upon  them  all  to-day;  sends  them  every  one  a din- 
ner-card to-morrow,  for  the  week  after  next ; before 
that  dinner  is  digested,  calls  upon  their  brothers  and 
sisters,  their  sons  and  daughters,  their  nephews  and 
nieces,  their  aunts  and  uncles  and  cousins,  and  invites 
them  all  to  dinner.  And  still,  as  at  first,  howsoever,  the 
dinner  circle  widens,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  all  the 
diners  are  consistent  in  appearing  to  go  to  the  Yeneer- 
ings, not  to  dine  with  Mr.  and  Mrs,  Yeneering  (which 
would  seem  to  be  the  last  thing  in  their  minds),  but  to 
dine  with  one  another. 

Perhaps,  after  all — who  knows? — Yeneering  may  find 
this  dining,  though  expensive,  remunerative,  in  the  sense 
that  it  makes  champions.  Mr,  Podsnap,  as  a representa- 
tive man,  is  not  alone  in  caring  very  particularly  for  his 
own  dignity,  if  not  for  that  of  his  acquaintances,  and 
therefore  in  angrily  supporting  the  acquaintances  who 
have  taken  out  liis  Permit,  lest,  in  their  being  lessened,  he 
should  be.  The  gold  and  silver  camels,  and  the  ice-pails, 
and  the  rest  of  the  Yeneering  table  decorations,  make  a 
brilliant  show,  and  when  I,  Podsnap,  casually  remark 
elsewhere  that  I dined  last  Monday  with  a gorgeous  cara- 
van of  camels,  I find  it  personally  offensive  to  have  it 


300 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


liinted  to  me  that  they  are  broken-kneed  camels,  or  camels 
laboring*  under  suspicion  of  any  sort.  don’t  display 
camels  myself,  I am.  above  them  ; I am  a more  solid 
man  ; but  these  camels  have  basked  in  the  light  of  my 
countenance,  and  how  dare  you,  Sir,  insinuate  to  me  that 
1 have  irradiated  any  but  unimpeachable  camels  ?” 

The  camels  are  polishing  up  in  the  Analytical’s  pantry 
for  the  dinner  of  wonderment  on  tlie  occasion  of  the 
Lammles  going  to  pieces,  and  Mr.  Tweralow  feels  a little 
queer  on  the  sofa  at  his  lodgings  over  the  stable  yard  in 
Duke  Street,  Saint  James’s,  in  consequence  of  having 
taken  two  advertised  pills  at  about  mid-day,  on  the  faith 
of  the  printed  representation  accompanying  the  box 
(price  one  and  a penny  half-penny,  government  stamp 
included),  that  the  same  '' will  be  found  highly  salutary 
as  a precautionary  measure  in  connection  with  the  plea- 
sures of  the  table.”  To  whom,  while  sickly  with  the 
fancy  of  an  insoluble  pill  sticking  in  his  gullet,  and  also 
with  the  sensation  of  a deposit  of  warm  gum  languidly 
wandering  within  him  a little  lower  down,  a servant 
enters  with  the  announcement  tluit  a lady  wishes  to  speak 
with  him. 

A lady  !”  says  Twemlow,  pluming  his  ruffled  feathers. 
Ask  the  favor  of  the  lady’s  name.” 

The  lady’s  name  is  Lamrnle.  The  lady  will  not  detain 
Mr.  Tvvemlow  longer  than  a very  few  minutes.  The  lady 
is  sure  that  Mr.  Tvvemlow  will  do  her  the  kindness  to  see 
her,  on  being  told  that  she  particularly  desires  a short 
interview.  The  lady  has  no  doubt  whatever  of  Mr. 
Twemlow’s  compliance  when  he  hears  her  name.  Has 
begged  the  servant  to  be  particular  not  to  mistake  her 
name.  Would-  have  sent  in  a card,  but  has  none. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


801 


Show  th-e  lady  in.’’  Lady  shown  in,  comes  in. 

Mr.  Twemlow’s  little  rooms  are  modestly  furnished,  in 
an  old-fashioned  manner  (rather  like  the  housekeeper’s 
room  at  Siiigsworthy  Park),  and  would  be  bare  of  mere 
ornament  were  it  not  for  a full-length  engraving  of  the 
sublime  Snigsworth  over  the  chimney-piece,  snorting  at  a 
Corinthian  column,  with  an  enormous  roll  of  paper  at  his 
feet,  and  a heavy  curtain  going  to  tumble  down  on  his 
head  ; those  accessories  being  understood  to  represent 
the  noble  lord  as  somehow  in  the  act  of  saving  his 
country. 

''  Pray  take  a seat,  Mrs.  Larnmle.”  Mrs.  Lammle 
takes  a seat  and  opens  the  conversation. 

I have  no  doubt,  Mr.  Twemlow,  that  you  have  heard 
of  a reverse  of  fortune  having  befallen  us.  Of  course  you 
liave  heard  of  it,  for  no  kind  of  nev/s  travels  so  fast — 
among  one’s  friends  especially.” 

Mindful  of  the  wondering  dinner,  Twemlow,  with  a 
little  twinge,  admits  the  imputation. 

‘‘Probably  it  will  not,”  says  Mrs.  Lammle,  with  a 
certain  hardened  manner  upon  her,  that  makes  Twem- 
low shrink,  “ have  surprised  you  so  much  as  some 
others,  after  what  passed  between  us  at  the  house 
which  is  now  turned  out  at  windows.  I have  taken 
the  liberty  of  calling  upon  you,  Mr.  Twemlow,  to  add 
a sort  of  postscript  to  what  1 said  that  day.” 

Mr.  Twemlow’s  drj^  and  hollov/  cheeks  became  more 
dry  and  hollow  at  the  prospect  of  some  new  complica- 
tion. 

“ Really,”  says  the  uneasy  little  gentleman,  “really, 
Mrs.  Lammle,  I should  take  it  as  a favor  if  you  could 
excuse  me  from  any  further  confidence.  It  has  ever 


802 


OtrU  MtJTtjAL  FKIEKD. 


been  one  of  the  objects  of  my  life — which,  unfortu- 
nately, has  not  had  many  objects — to  be  inoffensive, 
and  to  keep  out  of  cabals  and  interferences.^’ 

Mrs.  Lammle,  by  far  the  more  observant  of  the  two, 
scarcely  finds  it  necessary  to  look  at  Tvvemlow  while 
he  speaks,  so  easily  does  she  read  him. 

My  postscript*— to  retain  the  term  I have  used” — 
says  Mrs.  Lammle,  fixing  her  eyes  on  his  face,  to  en- 
force what  she  says  herself— coincides  exactly  with 
what  you  say,  Mr.  Twemlow.  So  far  from  troubling 
you  wdth  any  new  confidence,  I merely  wish  to  remind 
3"ou  what  the  old  one  was.  So  far  from  asking  you 
for  interference,  I merely  wish  to  claim  your  strict 
neutrality.’^ 

Twemlow  going  on  to  reply,  she  rests  her  eyes  again, 
knowing  her  ears  to  be  quite  enough  for  the  contents 
of  so  weak  a vessel. 

I can,  I suppose,”  says  Twemlow,  nervously, 
offer  no  reasonable  objection  to  hearing  any  thing 
that  you  do  me  the  honor  to  wish  to  say  to  me  under 
those  heads.  But  if  I may,  with  all  possible  delicacy 
and  politeness,  entreat  you  not  to  range  beyond  them, 
I — I beg  to  do  so.” 

Sir,”  says  Mrs.  Lammle,  raising  her  e^^es  to  his 
face  again,  and  quite  daunting  him  with  her  hardened 
manner,  I imparted  to  you  a certain  piece  of  know- 
ledge, to  be  imparted  again,  as  you  thought  best,  to  a 
certain  person.” 

“ Which  I did,”  says  Twemlow. 

**  And  for  doing  v/hich,  I thank  you  ; though,  in- 
deed, I scarcely  know  why  I turned  traitress  to  my 
husband  in  the  matter,  for  the  girl  is  a poor  little  fool. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


303 


I was  a poor  little  fool  once  myself ; I can  find  no 
better  reason/’  Seeing  the  effect  she  produces  on 
him  by  her  indifferent  laugh  and  cold  look,  she  keeps 
her  eyes  upon  him  as  she  proceeds.  Mr.  Twemlow, 
if  you  should  chance  to  see  m.y  husband,  or  to  see  me> 
or  to  see  both  of  us,  in  the  favor  or  confidence  of  any 
one  else— whether  of  our  common  acquaintance  or  not, 
is  of  no  consequence — you  have  no  right  to  use  against 
us  the  knowledge  I intrusted  you  with,  for  one  special 
purpose  which  has  been  accomplished.  This  is  what 
I came  to  say.  It  is  not  a stipulation  ; to  a gentle- 
man it  is  simply  a reminder.” 

Twemlow  sits  murmuring  to  himself  with  his  hand 
to  his  forehead. 

It  is  so  plain  a case,”  Mrs.  Lammle  goes  on,  “ as 
between  me  (from  the  first  relying  on  your  honor)  and 
you,  that  I will  not  waste  another  word  upon  it.”  She 
looks  steadily  at  Mr.  Twemlow,  until,  with  a shrug',  he 
makes  her  a little  one-sided  bow,  as  though  saying 
Yes,  I think  you  have  a right  to  rely  upon  me,”  and 
then  she  moistens  her  lips,  and  shows  a sense  of 
relief. 

I trust  I have  kept  the  promise  I made  through 
your  servant,  that  I would  detain  you  a very  few 
minutes.  I need  trouble  you  no  longer,  Mr.  Twem- 
low.” 

Stay  1”  says  Twemlow,  rising  as  she  rises.  ^Tar- 
don  me  a moment.  I should  never  have  sought  you 
out,  madam,  to  say  what  I am  going  to  say,  but  since 
you  have  sought  me  out  and  are  here,  I will  throw  it 
off  my  mind.  Was  it  quite  consistent,  in  candor,  with 
our  taking  that  resolution  against  Mr.  Fledgeby,  that 


304 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


you  should  afterward  address  Mr.  Fledgeby  as  your 
dear  and  confidential  friend,  and  entreat  a favor  of 
Mr.  Fledg'eby  ? Always  supposing  that  you  did  ; I 
assert  no  knowledge  of  my  own  on  the  subject ; it 
has  been  represented  to  me  that  you  did.’’ 

“ Then  he  told  you  f”  retorts  Mrs.  Lammle,  who 
again  has  saved  her  eyes  while  listening,  and  uses 
them  with  strong  effect  while  speaking, 
res.” 

“ It  is  strange  that  he  should  have  told  you  the  truth,” 
says  Mrs.  Lammle,  seriously  pondering.  '‘Pray  where 
did  a circumstance  so  very  extraordinary  happen  ?” 
Twemlow  hesitates.  He  is  shorter  than  the  lady  as 
well  as  weaker,  and,  as  she  stands  above  him  with 
her  hardened  manner  and  her  well-used  eyes,  he  finds 
himself  at  such  a disadvantage  that  he  would  like  to 
be  of  the  opposite  sex. 

“ May  I ask  where  it  happened,  Mr.  Twemlow  ? In 
strict  confidence  ?” 

“ I must  confess,”  says  the  mild  little  gentleman, 
coming  to  his  answer  by  degrees,  “ that  I felt  some 
compunctions  wdieii  Mr.  Fledgeby  mentioned  it.  I 
must  admit  that  I could  not  regard  myself  in  an  agree- 
able  light.  More  particulaxdy,  as  Mr.  Fledgeby  did, 
v/ith  great  civility,  which  I could  not  feel  that  I de- 
served from  him,  render  me  the  same  service  that  you 
had  entreated  him  to  render  you.” 

It  is  a part  of  the  true  nobility  of  the  poor  gentle- 
man’s soul  to  say  this  last  sentence.  “ Otherwise,”  he 
has  reflected,  “ I shall  assume  the  superior  position  of 
having  no  difficulties  of  my  own,  while  I know  of  hers. 
Which  would  be  mean,  very  mean.” 


OUR  MUTUAT.  FFwIEND. 


305 


Was  Mr.  Fledgeby’s  advocacy  as  effectual  in  your 
case  as  in  ours  Mrs.  Lammle  demands. 

As  i?ieffectual.^^ 

Can  you  make  up  your  mind  to  tell  me  where  you 
saiv  Mr.  Fledgeby,  Mr.  Twemlow 

‘‘  I beg  your  pardon.  I fully  intended  to  have  done 
so.  The  reservation  was  not  intentional.  I encount- 
ered Mr.  Fledg^by,  quite  by  accident,  on  the  spot. 
By  the  expression,  on  the  spot,  I mean  at  Mr.  Riah^s 
in  Saint  Mary  Axe.” 

“ Have  you  the  misfortune  to  be  in  Mr.  Riah’s  hands 
then  ?” 

‘^Unfortunately,  madam,”  returns  Twemlow,  “the 
one  money-obligation  to  which  I stand  committed,  the 
one  debt  of  my  life  (but  it  is  a just  debt  ; pray  observe 
that  I doiVt  dispute  it),  has  fallen  into  Mr.  Riah’s  hands.” 
“ Mr.  Twemlow,”  says  Mrs.  Lammle,  fixing  his  eyes 
with  hers  : which  he  would  prevent  her  doing  if  he  could, 
but  he  can’t  ; “it  has  fallen  into  Mr.  Fledgeby’s  hands. 
Mr.  Riah  is  his  mask.  It  has  fallen  into  Mr.  Fledgeby’s 
hands.  Let  me  tell  you  that,  for  your  guidance.  The  ii> 
formation  may  be  of  use  to  you,  if  only  to  prevent  your 
credulity,  in  judging  another  man’s  truthfulness  by  your 
own,  from  being  imposed  upon.” 

“ Impossible  !”  cries  Twemlow,  standing  aghast.  “ How 
do  you  know  it  ?” 

“ I scarcely  know  how  I know  it.  The  whole  train  of 
circumstances  seemed  to  take  fire  at  once,  and  show  it 
to  me.” 

^ “ Oh  ! Then  you  have  no  proof.” 

“It  is  very  strange,”  says  Mrs.  Lammle,  coldly  and 
boldly,  and  with  some  disdain,  “ how  like  men  are  to  one 


S06 


OUR  MCTtJAL  FRIEND, 


another  in  some  things,  though  their  characters  are  as 
different  as  can  be  ! No  two  men  can  have  less  - affinity 
between  them,  one  would  say,  than  Mr,  Twemlow  and 
my  hinffiand.  Yet  my  husband  replies  to  me  ^ You  have 
CO  proof/  and  Mr.  Twemlow  replies  to  me  with  the  V4^ry 
same  words  1” 

But  why,  madam  Twemlow  ventured  gently  to  ar- 
gue. Consider  why  the  very  same  w^ords  ? Because 
they  state  the  fact.  Because  you  havt  no  proof.^^ 

“ Men  are  very  wise  in  their  way,^^  quoth  Mrs.  Lam- 
mle,  glancing  haughtily  at  the  Snigsworth  portrait,  and 
shaking  out  her  dress  before  departing  ; but  they  have 
wisdom  to  learn.  My  husband,  who  is  not  over-confiding, 
ingenuous,  or  inexperienced,  sees  this  plain  thing  no  more 
than  Mr.  Twemlow  does — because  there  is  no  proof  ! 
Yet  I believe  five  women  out  of  six,  in  my  place,  would 
see  it  as  clearly  as  I do.  However,  I will  never  rest  (if 
only  in  remembrance  of  Mr.  Fledgeby’s  having  kissed  my 
hand)  until  my  husband  does  see  it.  And  yon  will  do 
well  for  yourself  to  see  it  from  this  time  forth,  Mr.  Tvvem- 
low,  though  I can  give  you  no  prooff^ 

As  she  moves  toward  the  door,  Mr.  Twemlow,  attend- 
ing on  her,  expresses  his  soothing  hope  that  the  condition 
of  Mr.  Lammle’s  affairs  is  not  irretrievable, 

I don’t  know/’  Mrs.  Lammle  answers,  stopping,  and 
sketching  out  the  pattern  of  the  paper  on  the  wall  with 
the  point  of  her  parasol  ; it  depends.  There  may  be  an 
opening  for  him  dawning  now,  or  there  may  be  none.  We 
shall  soon  find  out.  If  none,  we  are  bankrupt  here,  and 
must  go  abroad,  I suppose.’’ 

Mr.  Twemlow,  in  his  good-natured  desire  to  make  the 
best  of  it,  remarks  that  there  are  pleasant  lives  abroad. 


OTJR  MUTUAL  FKTEND. 


307 


returns  Mrs.  Lammle,  still  sketching  on  the 
wall  ; but  I doubt  whether  billiard-playing,  card-play- 
ing,  and  so  forth,  for  the  means  to  live  under  suspicion  at 
a dirty  table-d’hote,  is  one  of  them.^^ 

It  is  much  for  Mr.  Lammle,  Twemlow  politely  inti- 
mates (though  greatly  shocked),  to  have  one  always  be- 
side him  who  is  attached  to  him  in  all  his  fortunes,  and 
whose  restraining  influence  will  prevent  him  from  courses 
that  would  be  discreditable  and  ruinous.  As  he  says  it, 
Mrs.  Lammle  leaves  off  sketching,  and  looks  at  him. 

Restraining  influence,  Mr.  Twemlow  ? We  must  eat 
and  drink,  and  dress,  and  have  a roof  over  our  heads. 
Always  beside  him  and  attached  to  all  his  fortunes  ? 
Not  much  to  boast  of  in  that ; what  can  a woman  at  my 
age  do  ? My  husband, and  I deceived  one  another  when 
we  married  ; we  must  bear  the  consequences  of  the  de- 
ception— that  is  to  say,  bear  one  another,  and  bear  the 
burden  of  scheming  together  for  to-day^s  dinner  and  to- 
morrow's breakfast — till  death  divorces  us.’^ 

With  those  words,  she  walks  out  into  Duke  Street, 
Saint  James’s.  Mr.  Twemlow  returning  to  his  sofa,  lays 
down  his  aching  head  on  its  slippery  little  horse-hair 
bolster,  with  a strong  internal  conviction  that  a painful 
interview  is  not  the  kind  of  thing  to  be  taken  after  the 
dinner-pills,  which  are  so  highly  salutary  in  connection 
with  the  pleasures  of  the  table. 

But  six  o’clock  in  the  evening  finds  the  worthy  little 
gentleman  getting  better,  and  also  getting  himself  into 
ins  obsolete  little  silk  stockings  and  pumps,  for  the  won- 
dering dinner  at  the  Veneerings'.  And  seven  o’clock  in 
the  evening  finds  him  trotting  out  into  Duke  Street,  to 
trot  to  the  corner  and  save  a sixpence  in  coach  hire. 


308 


OUK  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


Tippins  tLe  divino  1ms  dined  herself  into  such  a ^con- 
dition by  this  time,  that  a morbid  mind  might  desire  her, 
for  a blessed  change>,  to  sup  at  last  and  turn  into  bed. 
Such  a mind  has  Mr.  Eugene  Wrayburn,  whom  Twemlow 
finds  contemplating  Tippins  with  the  moodiest  of  visages, 
while  that  playful  creature  rallies  him  on  being  so  long 
overdue  at  the  woolsack.  Skittish  is  Tippins  with  Mor- 
timer Light  wood,  too,  and  has  raps  to  give  him  with  her 
fan  for  having  been  best  man  at  the  nuptials  of  these  de- 
ceiving what^s-their-names  who  have  gone  to  pieces. 
Though,  indeed,  the  fan  is  generally  lively,  and  taps 
away  at  the  men  in  all  directions,  with  something  of  a 
grizzly  sound  suggestive  of  the  clattering  of  Lady  Tip- 
pin\s  bones. 

A new  race  of  intimate  friends  has  sprung  up  at  Ve- 
neering’s  since  he  went  into  Parliament  for  the  public 
good,  to  whom  Mrs.  Yeneering  is  very  attentive.  These 
friends,  like  astronomical  distances,  are  only  to  be  spoken 
of  in  the  very  largest  figures.  Boots  says  that  one  of 
them  is  a Contractor  who  (it  has  been  calculated)  gives 
employment,  directly  and  indirectly,  to  five  hundred 
thousand  men.  Brewer  says  that  another  of  them  is 
a Chairman,  in  such  request  at  so  many  Boards,  so  far 
apart,  that  he  never  travels  less  by  railway  than  three 
thousand  miles  a week.  Buff’er  says  that  another  of  them 
hadn't  a sixpence  eighteen  months  ago,  and,  through  the 
brilliancy  of  his  genius  in  getting  those  shares  issued  at 
eighty-five,  and  buying  them  all  up  with  no  money,  and 
selling  them  at  par  for  cash,  has  now  three  hundred  and 
seventy-five  thousand  pounds — Buffer  particularly  insist- 
ing on  the  odd  seventy-five,  and  declining  to  take  a 
farthing  less.  With  Buffi^r,  Boots,  and  Brewer,  Lady 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND* 


309 


Tippins  is  eminently  facetious  on  the  subject  of  these 
Fathers  of  the  Script-Church  : surveying  them  through 
her  eye-glass,  and  inquiring  whether  Boots  and  Brewer 
and  Buffer  think  they  will  make  her  fortune  if  she  makes 
love  to  them?  with  other  pleasantries  of  that  nature. 
Yeneering,  in  his  different  way,  is  much  occupied  with  the 
Fathers,  too,  piously  retiring  with  them  into  the  con- 
servatory, from  whioli  retreat  the  word  Committee”  is 
occasionally  heard,  and  where  the  Fathers  instruct  Ye- 
neering how  he  must  leave  the  valley  of  the  piano  on  his 
left,  take  the  level  of  the  mantle-piece,  cross  by  an  open 
cutting  at  the  candelabra,  seize  the  carrying-traffic  at  the 
console,  and  cut  up  the  opposition,  root  and  branch,  at 
the  window  curtains. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Podsnap  are  of  the  company,  and  the 
Fathers  descry  in  Mrs.  Podsnap  a fine  woman.  She  U 
consigned  to  a Father-— -Bootses  Father,  who  employs  five 
hundred  thousand  men — and  is  brought  to  anchor  on 
Yeneering^s  left  ; thus  affording  opportunity  to  the  spor- 
tive Tippins  on  his  right  (he,  as  usual,  being  mere  vacant 
space,)  to  entreat  to  be  told  something  about  those  loves 
of  Navvies,  and  whether  they  do  really  live  on  raw  beef- 
steaks, and  drink  porter  out  of  their  barrows.  But  in 
spite  of  such  little  skirmishes  it  is  felt  that  this  was  to  be 
a wondering  dinner,  and  that  the  wondering  must  not  be 
neglected.  Accordingly,  Brewer,  as  the  man  who  has 
the  greatest  reputation  to  sustain,  becomes  the  interpreter 
of  the  general  instinct. 

took,”  says  Brewer,  in  a favorable  pause,  ^^a  cab 
this  morning,  and  I rattled  off  to  that  Sale.” 

Boots  (devoured  by  envy)  says,  ‘‘So  did  I.” 


SIO 


OtJH  ]^ItJTtJAL  lPBlENt)4 


Buffer  says,  So  did  I f but  can  find  nobody  to  care 
whether  he  did  or  not. 

And  what  was  it  like  V’  inquires  Veneering. 

I assure  you,^^  replies  Brewer,  looking  about  for  any 
body  else  to  address  his  answer  to,  and  giving  the  prefer- 
ence to  Lightwood  ; I assure  you,  the  things  were 
going  for  a song.  Handsome  things  enough,  but  fetching 
nothing.^^  ♦ 

So  I heard  this  afternoon,^’  says  Lightwood. 

Brewer  begs  to  know  now,  would  it  be  fair  to  ask  a 
professional  man  how— on-^earth — these— people — ever 
« — did— come- — to — 'Such — a — total  smash  (Brewers 

divisions  being  for  emphasis.) 

Lightwood  replies  that  he  was  consulted  certainly,  but 
could  give  no  opinion  which  would  pay  off  the  Bill  of 
Sale,  and  tlierefore  violates  no  confidence  in  supposing 
that  it  came  of  their  living  beyond  their  means. 

But  how,’^  says  Veneering,  ^^can  people  do  that  F 

Hah  ! That  is  felt  on  all  hands  to  be  a shot  in  the 
bulPs-eye,  How  can  people  do  that  ! The  Analytical 
Chemist  going  round  with  Champagne  looks  very  much 
as  if  he  could  give  them  a pretty  good  idea  how  people 
did  that,  if  he  had  a mind. 

“ How,^^  says  Mrs.  Veneering’ laying  down  her  fork  to 
press  her  aquiline  hands  together  at  the  tips  of  the  fin- 
gers, and  addressing  the  Father  who  travels  the  three 
thousand  miles  per  week  : how  a mother  can  look  at 

her  baby,  and  know  that  she  lives  beyond  her  husband’s 
means,  I can  not  imagine.’* 

Eugene  suggests  that  Mrs.  Lammle,  not  being  a mother, 
had  no  baby  to  look  at. 


OtJE  MUTUAL  FEIEND. 


Sll 


• '^True,’’  says  Mrs.  Yeneering;  ^‘bnt  the  principle  is 
the  same.’^ 

Boots  is  clear  that  the  principle  is  the  same.  So  is 
Buffer.  It  is  the  unfortunate  destiny  of  Buffer  to  dam- 
age a cause  by  espousing  it.  The  rest  of  the  company 
have  meekly  yielded  to  the  proposition  that  the  prin- 
ciple is  the  same,  until  Buffer  says  it  is  ; when  instantly 
a general  murmur  arises  that  the  principle  is  not  the 
same. 

But  I don’t  understand,”  says  the  Father  of  the  three 
hundred  and  seventy-fire  thousand  pounds,  — if  these 

people  spoken  of  occupied  the  position  of  being  in  society 
— they  were  in  society 

Yeneering  is  bound  to  confess  that  they  dined  here,  and 
were  even  married  from  here. 

Then  I don’t  understand,”  pursues  the  Father, 
how  even  their  living  beyond  their  means  could  bring 
them  to  what  has  been  termed  a total  smash.  Because 
there  is  always  such  a thing  as  an  adjustment  of  affairs  in 
the  case  of  people  of  any  standing  at  all.” 

Eugene  (who  would  seem  to  be  in  a gloomy  state  of 
suggestiveness)  suggests,  ‘'Suppose  you  have  no  means 
and  live  beyond  them  ?” 

Tliis  is  too  insolvent  a state  of  things  for  the  Father 
to  entertain.  It  is  too  insolvent  a state  of  things  for  any 
one  with  any  self-respect  to  entertain,  and  is  universally 
scouted.  But  it  is  so  amazing  how  any  people  can  have 
come  to  a total  smash,  that  every  body  feels  bound  to 
account  for  it  specially.  One  of  the  Fathers  says, 
" Gaming-table.”  Another  of  the  Fathers  says,  “ Spec- 
ulated without  knowing  that  speculation  is  a science.” 
Boots  says,  " Horses.”  Lady  Tippius  says  to  her  fan^ 


312 


OUB  MUTUAL  FBnSND. 


Two  establishments.’^  Mr.  Podsiiap,  saying  nothing,  is 
referred  to  for  his  opinion  ; which  he  delivers  as  follows, 
inucli  flushed  and  extremely  angry  : 

Don’t  ask  me.  I desire  to  take  no  part  in  the  discus- 
sion of  these  people’s  alFairs.  I abhor  the  subject.  It  is 
an  odious  subject,  an  offensive  subject,  a subject  that 
makes  me  sick,  and  I — ” And  with  his  favorite  right-arm 
flourish,  which  sweeps  away  every  thing  and  settles  it 
forever,  Mr.  Podsnap  sweeps  these  inconveniently  unex- 
plainable wretches  who  have  lived  beyond  their  means  and 
gone  to  total  smash  off  the  face  of  the  universe. 

Eugene,  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  is  observing  Mr, 
Podsnap  with  an  irreverent  face,  and  may  be  about  to 
offer  a new  suggestion,  when  the  Analytical  is  beheld  in 
collision  with  the  Coachman  ; the  Coachman  manifesting 
a purpose  of  coming  at  the  company  with  a silver  salver, 
as  though  intent  upon  making  a collection  for  his  wife 
and  family  ; the  Analytical  cutting  him  off  at  the  side- 
board. The  superior  stateliness,  if  not  the  superior  gen- 
eralship, of  the  Analytical  prevails  over  a man  who  is  as 
nothing  off  the  box  ; and  the  Coachman,  yielding  up  his 
salver,  retires  defeated. 

Then  the  Analytical,  perusing  a scrap  of  paper  lying 
on  the  salver  with  the  air  of  a literary  Censor,  adjusts  it, 
takes  his  time  about  going  to  the  table  with  it,  and  pre- 
sents it  to  Mr.  Eugene  Wrayburn.  Whereupon  the 
pleasant  Tippins  says  aloud,  The  Lord  Chancellor  has 
resigned  !” 

With  distracting  coolness  and  slowness — for  he  knows 
the  curiosity  of  the  Charmer  to  be  always  devouring — 
Eugene  makes  a pretense  of  getting  out  an  eye-glass, 
polishing  it,  and  reading  the  paper  with  difficulty,  long 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND, 


813 


after  he  had  seen  what  is  written  on  it.  What  is  written 
on  it  in  wet  ink,  is  : 

Young  Blight.” 

Waiting  ?”  says  Eugene  over  his  shoulder,  in  confi- 
dence with  the  Analytical. 

Waiting,”  returns  the  Analytical  in  responsive  con- 
fidence. 

Eugene  looks  Excuse  me”  toward  Mrs.  Veneering, 
goes  out,  and  finds  Young  Blight,  Mortimer^s  clerk,  at 
the  hall  door. 

You  told  me  to  bring  him.  Sir,  to  wherever  you  was, 
if  he  come  while  you  was  out  and  I was  in,”  says  that 
discreet  young  gentleman,  standing  on  tip-toe  to  whisper  ; 

and  Pve  brought  him.” 

Sharp  boy.  Where  is  he  ?”  asks  Eugene. 

He^s  in  a cab.  Sir,  at  the  door.  I thought  it  best 
not  to  show  him,  you  see,  if  it  could  be  helped  ; for  he’s 
a shaking  all  over,  like — ” Blight’s  simile  is  perhaps  in- 
spired by  the  surrounding  dishes  of  sweets — “ like  Glue 
Monge.” 

‘‘Sharp  boy  again,”  returns  Eugene.  “I’ll  go  to 
him.” 

Goes  out  straightway,  and,  leisurely  leaning  his  arms 
on  the  open  window  of  a cab  in  waiting,  looks  in  at  Mr. 
Dolls,  who  has  brought  his  own  atmosphere  with  him,  and 
would  seem  from  its  odor  to  have  brought  it,  for  conveni- 
ence of  carriage,  in  a rum-cask. 

“ Now,  Dolls,  wake  up  !” 

“Mist  Wray  burn  ? Direction  I Fifteen  shillings  !” 

After  carefully  reading  the  dingy  scrap  of  paper  handed 
to  him,  and  as  carefully  tucking  it  into  his  waistcoat 
pocket,  Eugene  tells  out  the  money  : beginning  incau* 


314 


OUB  MUTUAL  FEIEIO). 


tiously  by  telling  the  first  shilling  into  Mr.  Dolls’s  hand, 
which  instantly  jerks  it  out  of  window  ; and  ending  by 
telling  the  fifteen  shillings  on  the  seat. 

Give  him  a ride  back  to  Charing  Cross,  sharp  boy, 
and  there  get  rid  of  him.” 

Returning  to  the  dining-room,  and  pausing  for  an  in- 
stant behind  the  screen  at  the  door,  Eugene  overhears, 
above  the  hum  and  clatter,  the  fair  Tippins  saying,  **  I 
am  dying  to  ask  him  w^hat  he  was  called  out  for  1’’ 

Are  you  mutters  Eugene,  then  perhaps  if  you 
can’t  ask  him  you’ll  die.  So  I’ll  be  a benefactor  to  soci- 
ety, and  go.  A stroll  and  a cigar,  and  I can  think  this 
over.  Think  this  over.”  Thus,  with  a thoughtful  face, 
he  finds  his  hat  and  cloak,  unseen  of  the  Analytical,  and 
goes  his  way. 


THE  END  OF  THE  THIRD  BOOK* 


UBRARY 
Of  THE 

UNiVERSiTY  OF  lUWOtS 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


BY 

CHARLES  DICKENS 


BOOK  THE  FOURTH. 


NEW  YORK: 

PUBLISHED  BY  .lOIIN  BRADBURH, 

(successor  to  m.  doolady,) 

49  WALKER-STREET. 

1865. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

IN  FOUR  BOOKS. 


BOOK  THE  FOURTH. 

A TURNING. 


CHAPTER  I. 

SETTING  TRAPS. 

Plashwater  Weir-Mill  Lock  looked  tranquil  and 
pretty  on  an  evening  in  the  summer  time.  A soft  air 
stirred  the  leaves  of  the  fresh  green  trees,  and  passed 
like  a smooth  shadow  over  the  river,  and  like  a smoother 
shadow  over  the  yielding  grass.  The  voice  of  the  falling 
water,  like  the  voices  of  the  sea  and  the  wind,  were  as  an 
outer  memory  to  a contemplative  listener  ; but  not  par- 
ticularly so  to  Mr.  Riderhood,  who  sat  on  one  of  the  blunt 
wooden  levers  of  his  lock-gates,  dozing.  Wine  must  be 
got  into  a butt  by  some  agency  before  it  can  be  drawn 
out  ; and  the  wine  of  sentiment  never  having  been  got 
into  Mr.  Riderhood  by  any  agency,  nothing  in  nature 
tapped  him. 

As  the  Rogue  sat,  ever  and  again  nodding  himself  off 
his  balance,  his  recovery  was  always  attended  by  an  an- 
gry stare  and  growl,  as  if,  in  the  absence  of  any  one  else, 


4 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


he  had  aggressive  inclinations  toward  himself.  In  one  of 
these  starts,  the  cry  of  Lock  ho  I Lock  !”  prevented  his 
relapse  into  a doze.  Shaking  himself  as  he  got  np,  like 
the  surly  brute  he  was,  he  gave  his  growl  a responsive 
twist  at  the  end,  and  turned  his  face  down-stream  to  see 
who  hailed. 

It  was  an  amateur  sculler,  well  up  to  his  work  though 
taking  it  easily,  in  so  light  a boat  that  the  Rogue  re- 
marked : 

little  less  on  you,  and  you’d  a’most  ha’  been  a 
Wagerbut then  went  to  work  at  his  windlass  handles 
and  sluices,  to  let  the  sculler  in.  As  the  latter  stood 
in  his  boat,  holding  on  by  the  boat-hook ' to  the  wood- 
work at  the  lock  side,  waiting  for  the  gates  to  open, 
Rogue  Riderhood  recognized  his  T’other  governor,”  Mr. 
Eugene  Wrayburn  ; who  was,  however,  too  indifferent  or 
too  much  engaged  to  recognize  him. 

The  creaking  lock-gates  opened  slowly,  and  the  light 
boat  passed  in  as  soon  as  there  was  room  enough,  and  the 
creaking  lock-gates  closed  upon  it,  and  it  floated  low  down 
in  the  dock  between  the  two  sets  of  gates,  until  the  water 
should  rise  and  the  second  gates  should  open  and  let  it  out. 
When  Riderhood  had  run  to  his  second  windlass  and 
turned  it,  and  while  he  leaned  against  the  lever  of  that 
gate  to  help  it  to  swing  open  presently,  he  noticed,  lying 
to  rest  under  the  green  hedge  by  the  towing-path  astern 
of  the  Lock,  a Bargeman. 

The  water  rose  and  rose  as  the  shiice  poured  in,  dis- 
persing the  scum  which  had  formed  behind  the  lumbering 
gates,  and  sending  the  boat  up,  so  that  the  sculler  gradu- 
ally rose  like  an  apparition  against  the  light  from  the 
bargeman’s  point  of  view.  Riderhood  observed  that  the 


ODE  MUTUAL  FEIEND* 


bargeman  rose  too,  leaning  on  his  arm,  and  seemed  to 
have  his  eyes  fastened  on  the  rising  figure. 

But  there  was  the  toll  to  be  takeiij  as  the  gates  were 
now  complaining  and  opening.  The  Toother  governor 
tossed  it  ashore,  twisted  in  a piece  of  paper,  and,  as  he 
did  so,  knew  his  man. 

Ay,  ay  1 IBs  you,  is  it,  honest  friend  V’  said  Eugene, 
seating  himself  preparatory  to  resuming  his  sculls.  **  You 
got  the  place,  then  ?” 

I got  the  place,  and  no  thanks  to  you  for  it,  nor  yet 
none  to  Lawyer  Lightwood,”  gruffly  answered  Rider- 
hood. 

‘‘  We  saved  our  recommendation,  honest  fellow,”  said 
Eugene,  “ for  the  next  candidate — the  one  who  will  offer 
himself  when  you  are  transported  or  hanged.  DonT  be 
long  about  it  ; will  you  bo  so  good  ?” 

So  imperturbable  was  the  air  with  which  he  gravely 
bent  to  his  work  that  Riderhood  remained  staring  at  him, 
without  having  found  a retort,  until  he  had  rowed  past  a 
line  of  wooden  objects  by  the  weir,  which  showed  like 
huge  teetotums  standing  at  rest  in  the  water,  and  was  al- 
most hidden  by  the  drooping  boughs  on  the  left  bank,  as 
he  rowed  away,  keeping  out  of  the  opposing  current.  It 
being  then  too  late  to  retort  with  any  effect — if  that  could 
ever  have  been  done — the  honest  man  confined  himself  to 
cursing  and  growling  in  a grim  under-tone.  Having  then 
got  his  gates  shut,  he  crossed  back  by  his  plank  lock- 
bridge  to  the  towing-path  side  of  the  river. 

If,  in  so  doing,  he  took  another  glance  at  the  barge- 
man, he  did  it  by  stealth.  He  cast  himself  on  the  grass 
by  the  Lock  side,  in  an  indolent  way,  with  his  back  in 
that  direction,  and,  having  gathered  a few  blades,  fell  to 


6 


OTJE  MUTUAL  FRIEND* 


chewing  them.  The  dip  of  Eugene  Wrayburn^s  sculls 
had  become  hardly  audible  in  his  ears  when  the  bargeman 
passed  him,  putting  the  utmost  width  that  he  could  be* 
tween  them,  and  keeping  under  the  hedge.  Then  Rider- 
hood  sat  up  and  took  a long  look  at  his  figure,  and  then 
cried  : 

Hi — i — i ! Lock  ho  I Lock  I Plashwater  Weir- 
Mill  Lock 

The  bargeman  stopped,  and  looked  back. 

Plashwater  Weir-Mill  Lock,  T^otherest  gov — er — nor 
— or-^or— or  cried  Mr.  Riderhood,  with  his  hands  to 

his  mouth. 

The  bargeman  turned  back.  Approaching  nearer  and 
nearer,  the  bargeman  became  Bradley  Headstone,  in  rough 
w^ater-side  second-hand  clothing. 

**  Wish  I may  die,^^  said  Riderhood,  smiting  his  right 
leg,  and  laughing,  as  he  sat  on  the  grass,  ‘^if  you  aiuT  ha^ 
been  a imitating  me,  T^otherest  governor  I Never  thought 
myself  so  good-looking  afore 

Truly,  Bradley  Headstone  had  taken  careful  note  of  the 
honest  man’s  dress  in  the  course  of  that  night-walk  they 
had  had  together.  He  must  have  committed  it  to  memo- 
ry, and  slowly  got  it  by  heart.  It  was  exactly  reproduced 
in  the  dress  he  now  wore.  And  whereas,  in  his  own 
schoolmaster  clothes,  he  usually  looked  as  if  they  were  the 
clothes  of  some  other  man,,  he  now  looked,  in  the  clothes 
of  some  other  man  or  men,  as  if  they  were  his  own. 

This  your  Lock  said  Bradley,  whose  surprise  had  a 
genuine  air  ; “ they  told  me,  where  I last  inquired,  it  was 
the  third  I should  come  to.  This  is  only  the  second.” 

It’s  my  belief,  governor,”  returned  Riderhood,  with  a 
wink  and  shake  of  his  head,  tha.t  you’ve  dropped  one  in 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND 


7 


your  counting.  It  ain^t  Locks  as  you\Q  been  giving  your 
mind  to.  No,  no 

As  be  expressively  jerked  his  pointing  finger  in  the  db 
rection  the  boat  had  taken,  a flush  of  impatience  mounted 
into  Bradley'S  face,  and  he  looked  anxiously  up  the  river. 

It  aiii^t  Locks  as  youWe  been  a reckoning  up,’^  said 
Riderhood,  when  the  sclioolmaster^s  eyes  came  back  again. 
^^No,  no 

**  What  other  calculations  do  you  suppose  I have  been 
occupied  with  ? Mathematics 

I never  heerd  it  called  that.  It’s  a long  word  for  it. 
Hows’ever,  p’raps  you  call  it  so,”  said  Riderhood,  stub- 
bornly  chewing  his  grass. 

^at.  What?” 

^^I’ll  say  them,  instead  of  it,  if  you  like,”  was  the  cool- 
ly growled  reply.  It’s  safer  talk,  too.” 

'^What  do  vou  mean  that  I should  understand  by 
them  ?” 

Spites,  affronts,  offences  giv’  and  took,  deadly  aggra- 
wations,  such  like,”  answered  Riderhood. 

Do  what  Bradley  Headstone  would,  he  could  not  keep 
that  former  flush  of  impatience  out  of  his  face,  or  so  mas- 
ter his  eyes  as  to  prevent  their  again  looking  anxiously  up 
the  river, 

**  Ha,  ha  1 Don’t  be  afeerd,  T’otherest,”  said  Rider- 
hood. **  The  Tether’s  got  to  make  way  ag’in  the  stream, 
and  he  takes  it  easy.  You  can  soon  come  up  with  him. 
But  wot’s  the  good  of  saying  that  to  you  I You  know 
how  fur  you  could  have  outwalked  him  betwixt  any 
where’s  about  where  he  lost  the  tide — say  Richmond— 
and  this,  if  you  had  had  a mind  to  it.” 

You  think  I have  been  following  him  ?”  said  Bradley* 


8 


OXr.R  ]VrUTUAL  FRIEND. 


I KNOW  you  have/^  said  Riderbood. 

‘‘Weill  I have,  I bave/^  Bradley  admitted.  “ But,’’ 
with  another  anxious  look  up  the  river,  “ he  may  land.’’ 
“ Easy  you  ! He  won’t  be  lost  if  he  does  land,”  said 
Riderbood.  “ He  must  leave  his  boat  behind  him.  He 
can’t  make  a bundle  or  a parcel  on  it,  and  carry  it  ashore 
with  him  under  his  arm.” 

“ He  was  speaking  to  you  just  now,”  said  Bradley, 
kneeling  on  one  knee  on  the  grass  beside  the  Lock-keeper. 
“ What  did  he  say  ?” 

“ Cheek,”  said  Riderbood. 

“What  ?” 

“ Cheek,”  repeated  Riderbood,  with  an  angry  oath  ; 
“cheek  is  what  he  said.  He  can’t  say  nothing  but  cheek. 
I’d  ha’  liked  to  plump  down  aboard  of  him,  neck  and  crop, 
with  a heavy  jump,  and  sunk  him.” 

Bradley  turned  away  his  haggard  face  for  a few  mo- 
ments, and  then  said,  tearing  up  a tuft  of  grass  ; 

“ Damn  him  !” 

“Hooroar!”  cried  Riderbood.  “Does  you  credit  1 
Hooroar  ! I cry  chorus  to  the  T’otherest.” 

“What  turn,”  said  Bradley,  with  an  effort  at  self- 
repression that  forced  him  to  wipe  his  face,  “ did  his  inso- 
lence take  to-day  ?” 

“ It  took  the  turn,”  answered  Riderbood,  with  sullen 
ferocity,  “ of  hoping  as  I was  getting  ready  to  be  hanged.’^ 
“ Let  him  look  to  that,”  cried  Bradley.  “ Let  him  look 
to  that ! It  will  be  bad  for  him  when  men  be  has  injured, 
and  at  whom  he  has  jeered,  are  thinking  of  getting  hanged. 
Let  him  get  ready  for  his  fate  when  that  comes  about. 
There  was  more  meaning  in  what  he  said  than  he  knew 
of,  or  he  wouldn’t  have  had  brains  enough  to  say  it.  Let 


Otm  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


9 


him  look  to  it ; .let  him  look  to  it  I When  men  he  has 
wronged,  and  on  whom  he  has  bestowed  his  insolence, 
are  getting  ready  to  be  hanged,  there  is  a death-bell  ringing. 
And  not  for  them.” 

Kiderhood,  looking  fixedly  at  him,  gradually  arose  from 
his  recumbent  posture  while  the  schoolmaster  said  these 
words  with  the  utmost  concentration  of  rage  and  hatred. 
So,  when  the  words  were  all  spoken,  he  too  kneeled  on 
one  knee  on  the  gra^,  and  the  two  men  looked  at  one 
another. 

Oh  I”  said  Riderhood,  very  deliberately  spitting  out 
the  grass  he  had  been  chewing.  /‘Then,  I make  out, 
T^otherest,  as  he  is  a-going  to  her  ?” 

“ He  left  London,”  answered  Bradley,  “yesterday.  I 
have  hardly  a doubt,  this  time,  that  at  last  he  is  going  to 
her.” 

“You  ain^t  sure,  then  ?” 

“I  am  as  sure  here,”  said  Bradley,  with  a clutch  at  the 
breast  of  his  coarse  shirt,  “ as  if  it  was  written  there 
with  a blow  or  a stab  at  the  sky. 

“ Ah  ! But  judging  from  the  looks  on  you,^^  retorted 
Riderhood,  completely  ridding  himself  of  his  grass,  and 
drawing  his  sleeve  across  his  mouth,  “ youVe  made  ekally 
sure  afore,  and  have  got  disapinted.  It  has  told  upon 
you.” 

“ Listen,’*  said  Bradley,  in  a low  voice,  bending  forward 
to  lay  his  hand  upon  the  Lock-keeper’s  shoulder.  “ These 
are  my  holidays.” 

“ Are  they,  by  George  !”  muttered  Riderhood,  with  his 
eyes  on  the  passion-wasted  face.  “ Your  working  days 
must  be  stiff  ’uns  if  these  is  your  holidays.” 

“ And  I have  never  left  him,”  pursued  Bradley,  waving 
1* 


10 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRTEKD. 


the  interruption  aside  with  an  impatient  hand,  since  they 
began.  And  I never  will  leave  him  now  till  I have  seen 
him  with  hen^^ 

And  when  }^ou  have  seen  him  with  her  said  Rider- 
hood. 

■ — 111  come  back  to  you.’^ 

Riderhood  stiffened  the  knee  on  which  he  had  been 
resting,  got  up,  and  looked  gloomily  at  his  new  friend. 
After  a few  moments  they  walked,  side  by  side,  in  the 
direction  the  boat  had  taken,  as  if  by  tacit  consent  ; Brad- 
ley pressing*  Jp^ward^  and  Riderhood  holding  back  ; Brad- 
ley getting  out  his  neat,  prim  purse  into  his  hand  (a  pres- 
ent made  him  by  penny  subscription  among  his  pupils) ; 
and  Riderhood,  unfolding  his  arms  to  smear  his  coat-cuff 
across  his  mouth  with  a thoughtful  air. 

I have  a pound  for  you,”  said  Bradley. 

YouHu  two,^^  said  Riderhood. 

Bradley  held  a sovereign  between  his  fingers.  Slouch- 
ing at  his  side,  with  his  eyes  upon  the  towing-path,  Ri- 
derhood held  his  left  hand  open,  with  a certain  slight 
drawing  action  toward  himself.  Bradley  • dipped  in  his 
purse  for  another  sovereign,  and  two  chinked  in  Rider- 
hood\s  hand,  the  drawing  action  of  which,  promptly 
strengthening,  drew  them  home  to  his  pocket. 

‘‘Now,  I must  follow  him,”  said  Bradley  Headstone. 

He  takes  this  river-road — the  fool  !■— to  confuse  observa- 
tion, or  divert  attention,  if  not  solely  to  baffle  me.  But 
he  must  have  the  power  of  making  himself  invisible  before 
he  can  shake  Me  off.” 

Riderhood  stopped.  “ If  you  doifit  get  disapinted  agin, 
T^otherest,  maybe  yoifill  put  up  at  the  Lock-house  when 
you  come  back  ?” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


11 


‘a  will” 

Biderhoocl  nodded,  and.  the  figure  of  the  bargeman 
went  its  way  along  the  soft  turf  by  the  side  of  the  towing- 
patli,  keeping  near  the  hedge  and  moving  quickly.  The}'' 
had  turned  a point,  from  which  a long  stretch  of  river  was 
visible.  A stranger  to  the  scene  might  have  been  certain 
that  here  and  there  along  the  line  of  hedge  a figure  stood, 
watching  the  bargeman,  and  waiting  for  him  to  come  up. 
So  he  himself  had  often  belieyed  at  first,  until  his  eyes 
became  used  to  the  posts,  bearing  the  dagger  that  vslew 
Wat  Tyler,  in  the  City  of  London  shield. 

Within  Mr.  Riderhood^s  knowledge,  all  daggers  were 
as  one.  Even  to  Bradley  Headstone,  who  could  have 
told  to  the  letter  without  book  all  about  Wat  Tyler, 
Lord  Mayor  Walworth,  and  the  King,  that  it  is  dutiful 
for  youth  to  know,  there  was  but  one  subject  living  in  the 
world  for  every  sharp  destructive  instrument  that  summer 
evening.  So,  Riderhood  looking  after  him  as  he  went, 
and  he  with  his  furtive  hand  laid  upon  the  dagger  as  he 
passed  it,  and  his  eyes  upon  the  boat,  were  much  upon  a 
par. 

The  boat  went  on,  under  the  arching  trees,  and  over 
their  tranquil  shadows  in  the  water.  The  bargemom  skulk- 
ing on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  stream,  went  on  after  it. 
Sparkles  of  light  showed  Riderhood  when  and  where  the 
rower  dipped  his  blades,  until,  even  as  he  stood  idly 
watching,  the  sun  went  down  and  the  landscape  was  dyed 
red.  And  then  the  red  had  the  appearance  of  fading  out 
of  it  and  mounting  up  to  Heaven,  as  we  say  that  blood, 
guiltily  shed,  does. 

Turning  back  toward  his  Lock  (he  had  not  gone  out 
of  view  of  it),  the  Rogue  pondered  as  deeply  as  it  was 


12 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


in  the  contracted  power  of  such  a fellow  to  do.  Why 
did  he  copy  my  clothes  ? He  could  have  looked  like  what 
lie  wanted  to  look  like  without  that/^  This  was  the  sub- 
ject-matter in  his  thoughts  ; in  which,  too,  there  came 
lumbering  up,  by  times,  like  any  half-floating  and  half- 
sinking  rubbish  in  the  river,  the  question.  Was  it  done 
by  accident  ? The  setting  of  a trap  for  finding  out  whether 
it  was  accidentally  done,  soon  superseded,  as  a practical 
piece  of  cunning,  the  abstruser  inquiry  why  otherwise  it 
was  done.  And  he  devised  a means. 

Rogue  Riderhood  went  into  his  Lock-house,  and  brought 
forth,  into  the  now  sober  gray  light,  his  chest  of  clothes. 
Sitting  on  the  grass  beside  it,  he  turned  out,  on^  by  one, 
the  articles  it  contained,  until  he  came  to  a conspicuous 
bright  red  neckerchief  stained  black  here  and  there  by 
wear.  It  arrested  his  attention,  and  he  sat  pausing  over 
it,  until  he  took  off  the  rusty  colorless  wisp  that  he  wore 
round  his  throat,  and  substituted  the  red  neckerchief, 
leaving  the  long  ends  flowing.  '‘Now,^^  said  the  Rogue, 
if  arter  he  sees  me  in  this  neckhankecher,  I see  him  in  a 
simflar  neckhankecher,  it  w^oidt  be  accident  Elated  by 
his  device,  he  carried  his  chest  in  again  and  went  to  sup- 
per. 

Lock  ho  ! Lock  !”  It  was  a light  night,  and  a barge 
coming  down  summoned  him  out  of  a long  doze.  In  due 
course  he  had  let  the  barge  through  and  was  alone  again, 
looking  to  the  closing  of  his  gates,  when  Bradley  Head- 
stone appeared  before  him,  standing  on  the  brink  of  the 
Lock. 

“ Halloa  said  Riderhood.  “ Back  ah’eady,  T^other- 
est 

He  has  put  up  for  the  night  at  an  Angler’s  Inn,”  was 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIRND. 


13 


the  fatigued  and  hoarse  reply.  He  goes  on,  up  the  river, 
at  six  in  the  morning.  I have  come  back  for  a couple  of 
hours’  rest.” 

You  want  ’em, ' said  Riderhood,  making  toward  the 
schoolmaster  by  his  plank  bridge. 

“ I don’t  want  them,”  returned  Bradley,  irritably,  be- 
cause I would  rather  not  have  them,  but  would  much  pre- 
fer to  follow  him  all  night.  However,  if  he  won’t  lead  I 
can’t  follow.  I have  been  waiting  about,  until  I could 
discover,  for  a certainty,  at  what  time  he  starts  ; if  I 
couldn’t  have  made  sure  of  it,  I should  have  staid  there. — 
This  would  be  a bad  pit  for  a man  to  be  flung  into  with 
his  hands  tied.  These  slippery  smooth  walls  W’ould  give 
him  no  chance.  And  I suppose  those  gates  would  suck 
him  down  ?”  » 

Suck  him  down,  or  swaller  him  up,  he  wouldn’t  get 
out,”  said  Riderhood.  Not  even  if  his  hands  warn’t  tied, 
he  wouldn’t.  Shut  him  in  at  both  ends,  and  I’d  give 
him  a pint  o’  old  ale  ever  to  come  up  to  me  standing 
here.” 

Bradley  looked  down  with  a ghastly  relish.  ^'You 
run  about  the  brink,  and  run  across  it,  in  this  uncertain 
light,  on  a few  inches  width  of  rotten  wood,”  said  he. 
“ I wonder  you  have  no  thought  of  being  drowned.” 

‘‘  I can’t  be  !”  said  Riderhood. 

‘‘You  can’t  be  drowned  ?” 

“No  !”  said  Riderhood,  shaking  his  head  with  an  air  of 
thorough  conviction,  “it’s  well  known.  I’ve  been  brought 
out  o’  drowning,  and  I can’t  be  drowned.  I wouldn’t 
have  that  there  busted  B’lowbridger  aware  on  it,  or  her 
people  might  make  it  tell  agin’  the  damages  I mean  to 
get.  But  it’s  well  known  to  water-side  characters  like 


u 


OtJK  MUTUAL  FRTEHD. 


myself,  that  him  as  has  been  brought  out  o’  drowning,  can 
never  be  drowned.” 

Bradley  smiled  sourly  at  the  ignorance  he  would  have 
corrected  in  one  of  his  pupils,  and  continued  to  look  down 
into  the  water,  as  if  the  place  had  a gloomy  fascination 
for  him. 

‘'You  seem  to  like  it,”  said  Rlderhood. 

He  took  no  notice,  but  stood  looking  down,  as  if  he 
had  not  heard  the  words.  There  was  a very  dark  expres- 
sion on  his  face  ; an  expression  that  the  Rogue  found  it 
hard  to  understand.  It  was  fierce,  and  full  of  purpose  ; 
but  the  purpose  might  have  been  as  much  against  himself 
as  against  another.  If  he  had  stepped  back  for  a spring, 
taken  a leap,  and  thrown  himself  in,  it  would  have  been 
no  surprising  sequel  to  the  look.  Perhaps  his  troubled 
soul,  set  upon  some  violence,  did  hover  for  the  moment 
between  that  violence  and  another. 

“ Didn’t  you  say,”  asked  Riderhood,  after  watching 
him  for  a while  with  a sidelong  glance,  “ as  yon  had  come 
back  for  a couple  o’  hours’  rest  ?”  But  even  then  he  had 
to  jog  him  with  his  elbow  before  he  answered. 

“ Eh  ? Yes.” 

“ Hadn’t  you  better  come  in  and  take  your  couple  o’ 
hours’  rest  ?” 

“ Thank  you.  Yes.” 

With  the  look  of  one  just  awakened  he  followed  Rider- 
hood  into  the  Lock-house,  where  the  latter  produced  from 
a cupboard  some  cold  salt-beef  and  half  a loaf,  some  gin 
in  a bottle,  and  some  water  in  a jug.  The  last  he  brought 
in,  cool  and  dripping,  from  the  river. 

“There,  T’otherest,”  said  Riderhood,  stooping  over 
him  to  put  it  on  the  table.  “ You’d  better  take  a bite 


OtJR  MUTUAL  UBIENt). 


15 


^nd  a Blip  afore  you  takes  your  snooze.^^  The  draggling 
ends  of  the  red  neckerchief  caught  the  schoolmaster’s  eyes. 
Riderhood  saw  him  look  at  it. 

Oh  !”  thought  that  worthy.  You’re  a taking 
notice,  are  you  ? Come  I You  shall  have  a good 
squint  at  it,  then.’’  With  which  reflection  he  sat  down 
on  the  other  side  of  the  table,  threw  open  his  vest, 
and  made  a pretense  of  retying  the  neckerchief  with 
much  deliberation. 

Bradley  ate  and  drank.  As  he  sat  at  his  platter  and 
mug  Kiderhood  saw  him,  again  and  yet  again,  steal 
a look  at  the  neckerchief,  as  if  he  were  correcting  his 
slow  observation,  and  prompting  his  sluggish  memory. 

When  you’re  ready  for  your  snoose,”  said  that  honest 
creature,  chuck  ymurself  on  my  bed  in  the  corner, 
T’otherest.  It’ll  be  broad  day  afore  three.  I’ll  call 
you  early.” 

I shall  require  no  calling,”  answered  Bradley. 
And  soon  afterward,  divesting  himself  only  of  his  shoes 
and  coat,  lay  down, 

Riderhood,  leaning  back  in  his  wooden  arm-chair, 
with  his  arms  folded  on  his  breast,  looked  at  him  as 
he  lay  with  his  right  hand  clenched  in  his  sleep,  and 
his  teeth  set,  until  a film  came  over  his  own  sight  and 
he  slept  too.  He  awoke  to  find  that  it  was  day-light, 
and  that  his  visitor  was  already  astir,  and  going  out 
to  the  river  side  to  cool  his  head  : Though  I’m  blest,” 

muttered  Riderhood  at  the  Lock-house  door,  looking 
after  him,  if  I think  there’s  water  enough  in  all  the 
Thames  to  do  that  for  you  I”  Within  five  minutes  he 
had  taken  his  departure,  and  was  passing  on  into  the 
calm  distance  as  he  had  passed  yesterday.  Riderhood 


16 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


knew  when  a fish  leaped  by  his  starting  and  glancing 
round. 

“ Lock  ho  ! Lock  at  intervals  all  day,  and  **  Lock 
ho  ! Lock  thrice  in  the  ensuing  night,  but  no  return 
of  Bradley.  The  second  day  was  sultry  and  oppres- 
sive. In  the  afternoon  a thunder-storm  came  up,  and 
had  but  newly  broken  into  a furious  sweep  of  rain 
when  he  rushed  in  at  the  door,  like  the  storm  itself. 

YouVe  seen  him  with  her  exclaimed  Eiderhood, 
starting  up. 

I have.’^ 

“ Where  ?” 

“ At  his  journey’s  end.  His  boat’s  hauled  up  for 
three  days.  I heard  him  give  the  order.  Then  I saw 
him  wait  for  her  and  meet  her.  I saw  them’^ — he 
stopped  as  though  he  were  suffocating,  and  began 
again — ‘‘  I saw  them  walking  side  by  side  last  night.’^ 

What  did  you  do  ?” 

**  Nothing.^’ 

What  are  you  going  to  do  ? ” 

He  dropped  into  a chair  and  laughed.  Immediately 
afterward  a great  spirt  of  blood  burst  from  his  nose. 

How  does  that  happen  ?’  asked  Eiderhood. 

1 don’t  know.  I can’t  keep  it  back.  It  has  hap- 
pened twice — three  times — four  times — I don’t  know 
how  many  times — since  last  ni^ht.  I taste  it,  smell  it, 
see  it  j it  chokes  me,  and  then  it  breaks  out  like 
this.” 

He  went  into  the  pelting  rain  again  with  his  head 
bare,  and,  bending  low  over  the  river,  and  scooping  up 
the  water  with  his  two  hands,  washed  the  blood  away. 
All  beyond  his  figure,  as  Eiderhood  looked  from  the 


OUR  MUTUAL  FEIEKD. 


17 


door,  was  a vast  dark  curtain  in  solemn  movement 
toward  one  quarter  of  the  heavens.  He  raised  his 
head  and  came  back,  wet  from  head  to  foot,  but  with 
the  lower  part  of  his  sleeves,  where  he  had  dipped  into 
the  river,  streaming  water. 

Your  face  is  like  a ghost’s,”  said  Eiderhood. 

Did  you  ever  see  a ghost  was  the  sullen  re- 
tort. 

I mean  to  say  you’re  quite  wore  out.” 

That  may  well  be.  I have  had  no  rest  since  I 
left  here.  I don’t  remember  that  I have  so  much  as 
sat  dov^^n  since  I left  here.” 

^^Lie  down  now,  then,”  said  Eiderhood. 

will,  if  you’ll  give  me  something  to  quench  my 
thirst  first.” 

The  bottle  and  jug  were  again  produced,  and  he 
mixed  a weak  draught,  and  another,  and  drank  both 
in  quick  succession.  You  asked  me  something  ?”  he 
said  then. 

''  No,  I didn’t,”  replied  Eiderhood. 

‘‘  I tell  you,”  retorted  Bradley,  turning  upon  him  in 
a wild  and  desperate  manner,  you  asked  me  some- 
thing before  I went  out  to  wash  my  face  in  the  ri- 
ver.” 

Oh  ! then  ?”  said  Eiderhood,  backing  a little.  “ I 
asked  you  wot  you  wos  a-going  to  do.” 

“ How  can  a man  in  this  state  know  ?”  he  an- 
swered, protesting  with  both  his  tremulous  hands, 
with  an  action  so  vigorously  angry  that  he  shook  the 
water  from  his  sleeves  upon  the  floor  as  if  he  had 
rung  them.  How  can  I plan  any  thing  if  I haven’t 
sleep  ?” 


18 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


Why,  that’s  what  I as  good  as  said,”  returned  the 
other.  “ Didn’t  I say  lie  down  ?” 

Well,  perhaps  you  did.” 

‘^Well!  Anyways  I says  it  again.  Sleep  where 
you  slept  last ; the  sounder  and  longer  you  can  sleep 
the  better  you’ll  know  arterward  what  you’re  up  to.” 

His  pointing  to  the  truckle-bed  in  the  corner  seemed 
gradually  to  bring  that  poor  couch  to  Bradley’s  wan- 
dering remembrance.  He  slipped  off  his  worn,  down- 
trodden shoes,  and  cast  himself  heavily,  all  wet  as  he 
was,  upon  the  bed. 

Riderhood  sat  down  in  his  wooden  arm-chair  and 
looked  through  the  window  at  the  lightning,  and 
listened  to  the  thunder.  But  his  thoughts  were  far 
from  being  absorbed  by  the  thunder  and  the  lightning, 
for  again  and  again  and  again  he  looked  very  curiously 
at  the  exhausted  man  upon  the  bed.  The  man  had 
turned  up  the  collar  of  the  rough  coat  he  wore  to  shel- 
ter himself  from  the  storm,  and  had  buttoned  it  about 
his  neck.  Unconscious  of  that  and  of  most  things,  he 
had  left  the  coat  so,  both  when  he  had  laved  his  face 
in  the  river,  and  when  he  had  cast  himself  upon  the 
bed ; though  it  would  have  been  much  easier  to  him 
if  he  had  unloosed  it. 

The  thunder  rolled  heavily,  and  the  forked  lightning 
seemed  to  make  jagged  rents  in  every  part  of  the 
vast  curtain  without,  as  Riderhood  sat  by  the  window 
glancing  at  the  bed.  Sometimes  he  saw  a man  upon 
the  bed  by  a red  light ; sometimes  by  a blue ; some- 
times he  scarcely  saw  him  in  the  darkness  of  the 
storm  ; sometimes  he  saw  nothing  of  him  in  the  blind- 
ing glare  of  palpitating  white  fire.  Anon,  the  rain 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


19 


would  come  Again  with  a tremendous  rush,  and  the 
river  would  seem  to  rise  to  meet  it,  and  a blast  of  wind, 
bursting  open  the  door,  would  flutter  the  hair  and 
dress  of  the  man,  as  if  invisible  messengers  were  come 
around  the  bed  to  carry  him  away.  From  all  these 
phases  of  the  storm  Riderhood  would  turn,  as  if  they 
were  interruptions — rather  striking  interruptions,  pos- 
sibly, but  interruptions  still — of  his  scrutiny  of  the 
sleeper. 

He  sleeps  sound,”  he  said  within  himself;  *^yet 
he’s  that  up  to  me  and  that  noticing  of  me  that  my 
getting  out  of  my  chair  may  wake  him,  when  a rattling 
peal  won’t,  let  alone  my  touching  of  him.” 

He  very  cautiously  rose  to  his  feet.  T’otherest,” 
he  said,  in  a low,  calm  voice,  “ are  you  a lying  easy  ? 
There’s  a chill  in  the  air,  Governor.  Shall  I put  a 
coat  over  you 
No  answer. 

That’s  about  what  it  is  a’ready,  you  see,”  muttered 
Eiderhood,  in  a lower  and  a different  voice  ; a coat 
over  you,  a coat  over  you  I” 

The  sleeper  moving  an  arm,  he  sat  down  again  in 
his  chair,  and  feigned  to  watch  the  storm  from  the 
window.  It  was  a grand  spectacle,  but  not  so  grand 
as  to  keep  his  eyes,  for  half  a minute  together,  from 
stealing  a look  at  the  man  upon  the  bed. 

It  was  at  the  concealed  throat  of  the  sleeper  that 
Eiderhood  so  often  looked  so  curiousl3^,  until  the  sleep 
seemed  to  deepen  into  the  stupor  of  the  dead-tired  in 
mind  and  body.  Then  Eiderhood  came  from  the  window 
cautiously,  and  stood  by  the  bed. 

Poor  man  1”  he  murmured  in  a low  tone,  with  a crafty 


20 


OUK  MUTUAL  FKIEHD* 


face,  and  a very  watchful  eye  and  ready  foot,  lest  ho 
should  start  tip  ; this  here  coat  of  his  must  make  him 
uneasy  in  his  sleep.  ' Shall  I loosen  it  for  him,  and  make 
him  more  comfortable  ? Ah  ! I think  I ought  to  it,  poor 
man.  I think  I will.’^ 

He  touched  the  first  button  with  a very  cautious  hand 
and  a step  backward.  But  the  sleeper  remaining  in  pro* 
found  unconsciousness,  he  touched  the  other  buttons  with 
a more  assured  hand,  and  perhaps  the  more  lightly  on  that 
account.  Softly  and  slowly  he  opened  the  coat  and  drew 
it  back. 

The  draggling  cuds  of  a bright-red  neckerchief  were 
then  disclosed,  and  he  had  even  been  at  the  pains  of  dip- 
ping parts  of  it  in  some  liquid,  to  give  it  the  appearance 
of  having  become  stained  by  wear.  With  a much-per- 
plexed face  Riderhood  looked  from  it  to  the  sleeper,  and 
from  the  sleeper  to  it,  and  finally  crept  back  to  his  chair, 
and  there,  with  his  hand  to  his  chin,  sat  long  in  a brown 
study,  looking  at  both. 


'OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEITD. 


21 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  GOLDEN  DUSTMAN  RISES  A LITTLE. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lammle  had  come  to  breakfast  with  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Boffin.  They  were  not  absolutely  uninvited,  but 
had  pressed  themselves  with  so  much  urgency  on  the  gol- 
den couple,  that  evasion  of  the  honor  and  pleasure  of  their 
company  would  have  been  difficult,  if  desired.  They  were 
in  a charming  state  of  mind,  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lammle, 
and  almost  as  fond  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin  as  of  one 
another. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Boffin,’^  said  Mrs.  Lammle,  it  imparts 
new  life  to  me  to  see  my  Alfred  in  confidential  communi- 
cation with  Mr.  Boffin.  The  two  were  formed  to  become 
intimate.  So  much  simplicity  combined  with  so  much 
force  of  character,  such  natural  sagacity  united  to  such 
amiability  and  gentleness — these  are  the  distinguishing 
characteristics  of  both.^^ 

This  being  said  aloud  gave  Mr.  Lammle  an  opportunit3% 
as  he  came  with  Mr.  Boffin  from  the  window  to  the  break- 
fast-table, of  taking  up  his  dear  and  honored  wife. 

My  Sophronia,^^  said  that  gentleman,  “ your  too  par- 
tial estimate  of  your  poor  husband^s  character — 

I IS’ot  too  partial,  Alfred,’’  urged  the  lady,  ten- 
derly moved  ; never  say  that.” 

My  child,  your  favorable  opinion,  then,  of  your  hus- 
band— you  don’t  object  to  that  phrase,  darling  ?” 


22 


OTJR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


**  How  can  I,  Alfred 

Your  favorable  opinion  then,  my  Precious,  does  less 
than  justice  to  Mr.  Boffin,  and  more  than  justice  to  me.” 
^‘To  the  first  charge,  Alfred,  I plead  guilty.  But  to 
the  second,  ohr  no,  no  I” 

^‘Less  than  justice  to  Mr.  Boffin,  Sophrouia,”  said  Mr. 
Lammle,  soaring  into  a tone  of  moral  grandeur,  because 
it  represents  Mr.  Boffin  as  on  a lower  level  ; more  than 
justice  to  me,  Sophrouia,  because  it  represents  me  as  on 
Mr.  Boffin’s  higher  level.  Mr.  Boffin  bears  and  forbears 
far  more  than  I could.” 

‘^Far  more  than  you  could  for  yourself,  Alfred  ?” 

*‘My  love,  that  is  not  the  question.” 

^^Not  the  question,  Lawyer?”  said  Mrs.  Lammle, 
archly. 

‘^ISTo,  dear  Sophronia.  From  my  lower  level  I regard 
Mr.  Boffin  as  too  generous,  as  possessed  of  too  much 
clemency,  as  being  too  good  to  persons  who  are  unworthy 
of  him  and  ungrateful  to  him.  To  those  noble  qualities  I 
can  lay  no  claim.  On  the  contrary,  they  rouse  my  indig- 
nation when  I see  them  in  action.” 

Alfred !” 

*^They  rouse  my  indignation,  my  dear,  against  the  un- 
worthy persons,  and  give  me  a combative  desire  to  stand 
between  Mr.  Boffin  and  all  such  persons.  Why  ? Be- 
cause in  my  lower  nature  I am  more  worldly  and  less  deli- 
cate. Not  being  so  magnanimous  as  Mr.  Boffin,  I feel 
his  injuries  more  than  he  does  himself,  and  feel  more  ca- 
pable of  opposing  his  injurers.” 

It  struck  Mrs.  Lammle  that  it  appeared  rather  difficult 
this  morning  to  bring  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin  into  agreeable 
conversation.  Here  had  been  several  lures  thrown  out, 


OUR  J^rUTFAL  FRIEND. 


23 


and  neither  of  them  had  uttered  a word.  Here  were  she, 
Mrs.  Lammle,  and  her  husband  discoursing  at  once  affect- 
ingly  and  effectively,  but  discoursing  alone.  Assuming 
that  the  dear  old  creatures  were  impressed  by  what  they 
heard,  still  one  would  like  to  be  sure  of  it,  the  more  so,  as 
at  least  one  of  the  dear  old  creatures  was  somewhat  point- 
edly referred  to.  If  the  dear  old  creatures  were  too  bash- 
ful or  too  dull  to  assume  their  required  places  in  the  dis- 
cussion,  why  then  it  would  seem  desirable  that  the  deai 
old  creatures  should  be  taken  by  their  heads  and  shoulders 
and  brought  into  it. 

But  is  not  my  husband  saying  in  effect,’^  asked  Mrs. 
Lammle,  therefore,  with  an  innocent  air,  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Boffin,  that  he  becomes  unmindful  of  his  own  temporary 
misfortunes  in  his  admiration  of  another  whom  he  is  burn- 
ing to  serve  ? And  is  not  that  making  an  admission 
that  his  nature  is  a generous  one  ? I am  wretched 
in  argument,  but  surely  this  is  so,  dear  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Boffin 

Still,  neither  Mr.  nor  Mrs.  Boffin  said  a word.  He  sat 
with  his  eyes  on  his  plate,  eating  his  muffins  and  ham,  and 
she  sat  shyly  looking  at  the  tea-pot.  Mrs.  Lammle^s  inno- 
cent appeal  was  merely  thrown  into  the  air,  to  mingle 
v/ith  the  steam  of  the  urn.  Glancing  toward  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Boffin,  she  very  slightly  raised  her  eyebrows,  as 
though  inquiring  of  her  husband  : ‘‘  Do  I notice  anything 
wrong  here 

Mr.  Lammle,  who  had  found  his  chest  effective  on  a 
variety  of  occasions,  manoeuvred  his  capacious  shirt-front 
into  the  largest  demonstration  possible,  and  then  smiling 
retorted  on  his  wife,  thus  : 

Sophronia,  darling,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin  will  remind 


24 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


you  of  the  old  adage,  that  self-praise  is  no  recommenda- 
tion/^ 

Self-praise,  Alfred?  Do  you  mean  because  we  are 
one  and  the  same  T'^ 

jS^o,  my  dear  child.  I mean  that  you  can  not  fail  to 
remember,  if  you  reflect  for  a single  moment,  that  what 
you  are  pleased  to  compliment  me  upon  feeling  in  the  case 
of  Mr.  Boffin  you  have  yourself  confided  to  me  a‘s  your 
own  feeling  in  the  case  of  Mrs.  Boffin.’^ 

I shall  be  beaten  by  this  Lawyer,’^  Mrs.  Lammle  gay- 
]j  whispered  to  Mrs.  Boffin.  “ I am  afraid  I must  admit 
it,  if  he  presses  me,  for  it^s  damagingly  true.^’) 

Several  white  dints  began  to  come  and  go  about  Mr. 
Lammle^s  nose,  as  he  observed  that  Mrs.  Boffin  merely 
looked  up  from  the  tea-pot  for  a moment  with  an  embar- 
rassed smile,  which  was  no  smile,  and  then  looked  down 
again. 

Do  you  admit  the  charge,  Sophronia  inquired  Al- 
fred, in  a rallying  tone. 

“ Really,  I think, said  Mrs,  Lammle,  still  gayly,  I 
must  throw  myself  on  the  protection  of  the  Court.  Am  I 
bound  to  answer  that  question,  my  Lord  To  Mr. 
Boffin. 

You  needift,  if  you  don’t  like,  ma’am,”  was  his  answer. 
“ It’s  not  of  the  least  consequence.” 

Both  husband  and  wife  glanced  at  him,  very  doubtfully. 
His  manner  was  grave,  but  not  coarse,  and  derived  some 
dignity  from  a certain  repressed  dislike  of  the  tone  of  the 
conversation. 

Again  Mrs.  Lammle  raised  her  eyebrows  for  instruction 
from  her  husband.  He  replied  in  a slight  nod.  Try 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND, 


25 


To  protecfc  myself  from  the  suspicion  of  covert  self- 
laudation,  my  dear  Mrs.  Boffin,”  said  the  airy  Lammle 
therefore,  1 must  tell  you  how  it  was.” 

No.  Pray  don’t,”  Mr.  Boffin  interposed, 

Mrs.  Lammle  turned  to  him  laughingly.  ‘‘  The  Court 
objects  ?” 

Ma’am,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  the  Court  (if  I am  the 
Court)  does  object.  The  Court  objects  for  two  reasons. 
First,  because  the  Court  don’t  think  it  fair.  Secondly, 
because  the  dear  old  lady,  Mrs.  Court  (if  I am  Mr.j,  gets 
distressed  by  it.” 

A very  remarkable  wavering  between  two  bearings— 
between  her  propitiatory  bearing  there,  and  her  defiant 
bearing  at  Mr.  Twemlow’s — was  observable  on  the  part 
of  Mrs.  Lammle  as  she  said  ; “ What  does  the  Court  not 
consider  fair  ?” 

''  Letting  you  go  on,”  replied  Mr,  Boffin,  nodding  his 
bead  soothingly,  as  who  should  say.  We  won’t  be  harder 
on  you  than  we  can  help  ; we’ll  make  the  best  of  it.  It’s 
not  above-board  and  it’s  not  fair.  When  the  old  lady  is 
uncomfortable,  there’s  sure  to  be  good  reason  for  it.  I 
see  she  is  uncomfortable,  and  I plainly  see  this  is  the  good 
reason  wherefore.  Have  yon  breakfasted,  ma’am  ?” 

Mrs.  Lammle,  settling  into  her  defiant  manner,  pushed 
her  plate  away,  looked  at  her  husband,  and  laughed  ; 
but  by  no  means  gayly. 

Have  you  breakfasted,  Sir?”  inquired, Mr,  Boffin. 

Thank  you,”  replied  Alfred,  showing  all  his  teeth. 

If  Mrs.  Boffin  will  oblige  me,  I’ll  take  another  cup  of 
tea.” 

He  spilled  a little  of  it  over  the  chest  which  ought  to 
have  been  so  effective,  and  which  had  done  so  little  ; but 
2 


23 


OUE  MUTUAL  FKIEKD. 


on  the  whole  drank  it  with  something  of  an  air,  thong^h 
the  coming  and  going  dints  got  almost  as  large,  the  while, 
as  if  they  had  been  made  by  pressure  of  the  tea-spoon. 

A thousand  thanks/’  he  then  observed.  I have  break- 
fasted.” 

^‘Now,  which,”  said  Mr.  Boffin  softly,  taking  out  a 
pocket-book,  “ whicli  of  you  two  is  Cashier  ?” 

Sophronia,  my  dear,”  remarked  lier  husband,  as  he 
leaned  back  in  his  chair,  waving  his  right  hand  tow^ard 
her,  while  he  hung  his  left  hand  by  the  thumb  in  the  arm- 
hole of  his  waistcoat : ^Mt  shall  be  your  department.” 

would  rather,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  ^Hhat  it  was  your 
husband’s,  ma’am,  because  —but  never  mind,  because.  I 
would  rather  have  to  do  with  him.  However,  wdiat  I 
have  to  say,  I will  say  with  as  little  offense  as  possible  ; 
if  I can  say  it  without  any,  I shall  be  heartily  glad.  You 
two  have  done  me  a service,  a very  great  service,  in  doing 
what  you  did  (my  old  lady  knows  what  it  was),  and  I 
have  put  into  this  envelope  a bank-note  for  a hundred 
pound.  I consider  the  service  well  worth  a hundred 
pound,  and  I am  well  pleased  to  pay  the  money.  Would 
you  do  me  the  favor  to  take  it,  and  likewise  to  accept 
my  thanks  ?” 

With  a haughty  action  and  without  looking  toward 
him,  Mrs.  Lammle  held  out  her  left  hand,  and  into  it 
Mr.  Boffin  put  the  little  packet.  When  she  had  con- 
veyed it  to  her  bosom,  Mr.  Lammle  had  the  appear- 
ance of  feeling  relieved,  and  breathing  more  freely, 
as  not  having  been  quite  certain  that  the  hundred 
pounds  were  his  until  the  note  had  been  safely  trans- 
ferred out  of  Mr.  Boffin’s  keeping  into  his  own  So* 
phronia’s. 


OtJU  MUftrAL  FBIEKD. 


2T 


Jt  is  not  impossiblCj  said  Mr.  Boffioj  addressing 
Alfred,  that  you  have  had  some  general  idea,  Sir,  of 
replacing  Kokesmith,  in  course  of ‘-time 

It  is  not,’^  assented  Alfred^  with  a glittering  smile 
and  a great  deal  of  nose,  not  impossible.’^ 

And  perhaps,  ma’am, pursued  Mr.  Boffin,  address- 
ing Sophronia,  ^‘yoii  have  been  so  kind  as  to  take 
up  my  old  lady  in  ^mur  own  mind,  and  to  do  her  the 
honor  of  turning  the  question  over  whether  you 
mightn’t  one  of  these  days  have  her  in  charge  like  ? 
Whether  you  mightn’t  be  a sort  of  Miss  Bella  Wilfer 
to  her,  and  something  more  ?” 

“I  should  hope,”  returned  Mrs.  Lammle,  with  a 
scornful  look  and  in  a loud  voice,  “ that  if  I were  any- 
thing to  your  wife,  Sir,  I could  hardly  fail  to  be  some- 
thing more  than  Miss  Bella  Wilfer,  as  you  call  her.” 
What  do  you  call  her,  ma’am  ?”  asked  Mr.  Boffin. 
Mrs.  Lammle  disdained  to  reply,  and  sat  defiantly 
beating  one  foot  on  the  ground. 

Again,  I think  I may  say,  that’s  not  impossible. 
Is  it,  Sir  ?”  asked  Mr,  Boffin,  turning  to  Alfred„ 

It  is  not,”  said  Alfred,  smiling  assent  as  before, 
not  impossible.” 

Now,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  gently,  it  won’t  do.  I don’t 
wish  to  say  a single  word  that  might  be  afterward 
remembered  as  unpleasant;  but  it  won’t  do.” 

^‘Sophronia,  my  love,”  her  husband  repeated,  in  a 
bantering  manner,  ‘^you  hear  ? It  won’t  do.” 

“ No,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  with  his  voice  still  dropped, 
it  really  won’t.  You  positively  must  excuse  us.  If 
you’ll  go  your  wa}%  we’ll  go  ours,  and  so  I hope  this 
affair  ends  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  parties.” 


28 


OXm  MUTUAL  FEIKKD4 


Mrs.  Lammle  gave  him  the  look  of  a decidedly  dis- 
satisfied party  demanding  exemption  from  the  cate* 
gory;  but  said  uothrtng. 

“ The  best  thing  we  can  make  of  the  affair,”  said 
Mr.  Boffin,  ‘‘is  a matter  of  business,  and  as  a matter 
of  business  it’s  brought  to  a conclusion.  You  have 
done  me  a great  service,  a very  great  service,  and  I 
have  paid  for  it.  Is  there  any  objection  to  the  price  ?” 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lammle  looked  at  one  another  across 
the  table,  but  neither  could  say  that  there  was.  Mr. 
Lammle  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  Mrs.  Lammle  sat 
rigid. 

“ Very  good,”  said  Mr.  Boffin.  “ We  hope  (my  old 
lady  and  me)  that  you’ll  give  us  credit  for  taking  the 
plainest  and  hoiiestest  shortcut  that  could  be  taken 
under  the  circumstances.  We  have  talked  it  over  with 
a deal  of  care  (my  old  lady  and  me),  and  we  have  felt 
that  at  all  to  lead  you  on,  or  even  at  all  to  let  you 
go  on  of  3’our  own  selves,  wouldn’t  be  the  right 
thing.  So  I have  openly  given  you  to  understand 
that — ” Mr.  Boffin  sought  for  a new  turn  of  speech, 
but  could  find  none  so  expressive  as  his  former  one, 
repeated  in  a confidential  tone,  “ —that  it  won’t  do. 
If  I could  have  put  the  case  more  pleasantly  I 
would  ; but  I hope  I haven’t  put  it  very  unpleasantly  ; 
at  all  events  I haven’t  meant  to.  So,”  said  Mr.  Boffin, 
by  way  of  peroration,  “ wishing  you  well  in  the  way 
you  go,  we  now  conclude  with  the  observation  that 
perhaps  you’ll  go  it.” 

Mr.  Laramie  rose  with  an  impudent  laugh  on  his 
side  of  the  table,  and  Mrs.  Lammle  rose  with  a dis- 
dainful frown  on  hers.  At  this  moment  a hasty  foot 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


29 


was  heard  on  the  staircase,  and  Georgiana  Podsnap 
broke  into  the  room  unannounced  and  in  tears. 

01),  my  dear  Sophronia  cried  Georgiana,  wring- 
ing her  hands  as  she  ran  up  to  embrace  her,  “ to  think 
that  you  and  Alfred  should  be  ruined  ! Oh,  my  poor 
dear  Sophronia,  to  think  that  you  should  have  had  a 
sale  at  your  house  after  all  your  kindness  to  mo  ! 
Oh,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin,  pray  forgive  me  for  this  intru- 
sion, but  you  don^t  know  how  fond  I was  of  Sophronia 
when  Pa  wouldift  let  me  go  there  any  more,  or  what 
I have  felt  for  Sophronia  since  I heard  from  Ma  of  her 
having  been  brought  low  in  the  world  ! You  donk, 
you  can’t,  you  never  can  think  how  I have  lain  awake 
at  night  and  cried  for  my  good  Sophronia,  my  first 
and  only  friend  1” 

Mrs.  Lammle’s  manner  changed  under  the  poor  silly 
girl’s  embraces,  and  she  turned  extremely  pale  ; di- 
recting one  appealing  look  first  to  Mrs.  BofiSn,  and 
then  to  Mr.  Boffin.  Both  understood  her  instantly, 
with  a more  delicate  subtlety  than  much  better  edu- 
cated people,^whose  perception  came  less  directly  from 
the  heart,  could  have  brought  to  bear  upon  the  case. 

I haven’t  a minute,”  said  poor  little  Georgiana,  “ to 
stay.  I am  out  shopping  early  with  Ma,  and  I said  I 
had  a headache  and  got  Ma  to  leave  me  outside  in  the 
phaeton,  in  Piccadilly,  and  ran  round  to  Sackvillo 
street,  and  heard  that  Sophronia  was  here,  and  then 
Ma  came  to  see,  oh,  such  a dreadful  old  stony  woman 
from  the  country  in  a turban  in  Portland  place,  and  I 
said  I wouldn’t  go  up  with  Ma,  but  would  drive  round 
and  leave  cards  for  the  Boffins,  which  is  taking  a 
liberty  with  the  mime;  but  oh,  rny  goodness,  I am  dis- 


30 


OUR  IVrUTUAL  FRIEND. 


tracted,  and  the  phaeton’s  at  the  door,  and  what  would 
Pa  say  if  he  knew  it  !” 

Don’t  3^ou  be  timid,  my  dear,”  said  Mrs.  Boffin. 
‘^You  came  in  to  see  us.” 

Oh,  no,  I didn’t,”  cried  Georgiana.  “ It’s  very 
impolite,  I know,  but  I came  to  see  my  poor  Sophro- 
nia,  my  only  friend.  Oh  ! how  I felt  the  separation,  my 
dear  Sophronia,  before  I knew  you  were  brought  low 
in  the  world,  and  how  much  more  I feel  it  now  ! ” 
There  were  actually  tears  in  the  bold  woman’s  eyes, 
as  the  soft-headed  and  soft-hearted  girl  twined  her 
arms  about  her  neck. 

But  I’ve  come  on  business,”  said  Georgiana,  sob- 
bing and  drying  her  face,  and  tlien  searching  in  a lit- 
tle reticule,  and  if  I don’t  dispatch  it  I shall  have 
come  for  nothing,  and  oh,  good  gracious  ! what  would 
Pa  say  if  he  knew  of  Sackville  street,  and  what  would 
Ma  say  if  she  was  kept  waiting  on  the  door-steps  of 
that  dreadful  turban,  and  there  never  were  such  paw- 
ing horses  as  ours  unsettling  my  mind  every  moment 
more  and  more  when  I want  more  mind  than  I have 
got,  b}^  pawing  up  Mr.  Boffin’s  street  where  they  have 
no  business  to  be.  Oh  ! where  is,  where  is  it?  Oh  I 
I can’t  find  it !”  All  this  time  sobbing  and  searching 
in  the  little  reticule. 

“ What  do  you  miss,  my  dear  ?”  asked  Mr.  Boffin, 
stepping  forward.  ’ 

Oh  ! its  little  enough,”  replied  Georgiana,  because 
Ma  always  treats  me  as  if  I was  in  the  nursery  (I  am 
sure  I wish  I was  !),  but  I hardly  ever  spend  it,  and  it 
has  mounted  up  to  fifteen  pounds,  Sophronia,  and  I 
hope  three  five  pound  notes  are  better  than  nothing, 


31 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEISTD. 

though  so  little,  so  little  I And  now  I have  found 
that — oh,  my  goodness!  there^s  the  other  gone  next  1 
Oh  no,  it  isn%  here  it  is  1^^ 

With  that,  always  sobbing  and  searching  in  the  reti- 
cule, Georgiana  produced  a necklace. 

“ Ma  says  chits  and  jewels  have  no  business  toge- 
ther,’^ pursued  Georgiana,  and  that’s  the  reason  why 
I have  no  trinkets  except  this,  but  I suppose  my  aunt 
Hawkinson  was  of  a different  opinion,  because  she 
left  me  this,  though  I used  to  think  she  might  just  as 
well  have  buried  it,  for  it’s  always  kept  in  jewelers’ 
cotton.  However,  here  it  is,  I am  thankful  to  say, 
and  of  use  at  last,  and  you’ll  sell  it,  dear  Sophronia, 
and  buy  things  with  it.’^ 

Give  it  to  me,”  said  Mu  Boffin,  gently  taking  it. 
I’ll  see  that  it’s  properlj^  disposed  of.” 

Oh  I are  you  such  a friend  of  Sophronia’s,  Mr. 
Boffin,”  cried  Georgiana.  Oh,  how  good  of  you  1 
Oh,  my  gracious  I there  was  something  else,  and  it’s 
gone  out  of  my  head  I Oh,  no,  it  isn’t,  I remember 
what  it  was.  My  grandmamma’s  property,  that’ll 
come  to  me  when  I am  of  age,  Mr.  Boffin,  will  be  all 
my  own,  arid  neither  Pa  nor  Ma  nor  any  body  else 
will  have  any  control  over  it,  and  what  I wish  to  do  is 
to  make  some  of  it  over  somehow  to  Sophronia  and 
Alfred,  by  signing  something  somewhere  that’ll  pre- 
vail on  somebody  to  advance  them  something,  I want 
them  to  have  something  handsome  to  bring  them  up 
in  the  world  again.  Oh,  my  goodness  rim  I Being 
such  a friend  of  my  dear  Sophronia’s,  you  w’On’t  re- 
fuse me,  will  you?”  * 

No,  no,”  said  Mr.  Boffin.  it  shall  oe  seen  to.” 


S2 


OXTR  MUTUAL  FKJEHP. 


**  Oh,  thank  ^^ou,  thank  you  cried  Georgiana.  If 
my  maid  had  a little  note  and  Imlf  a crown,  I could 
run  round  to  the  pastrj’cook^s  to  sign  something,  or  I 
could  sign  something  in  the  Square  if  somebody  would 
come  and  cough  for  me  to  let  ’em  in  with  the  key,  and 
would  bring'  a pen  and  ink  with  ’em  and  a bit  of  blot- 
ting paper.  Oh,  my  gracious  ! I must  tear  myself 
away,  or  Pa  and  Ma  will  both  find  out ! Dear,  dear 
Sophronia,  good,  good-b}"  !” 

The  credulous  little  creature  again  embraced  Mrs. 
Lamrnle  most  affectionately,  and  then  held  out  her 
hand  to  Mr.  Lamrnle. 

Good-bjq  dear  Mr.  Lamrnle — I mean  Alfred.  You 
won’t  think  after  to  day  that  I have  deserted  you  and 
Sophronia  because  you  have  been  brougdit  low  in  the 
world,  will  you  ? Oli  me  ! oh  me  ! I have  been  cry- 
ing mj^  eyes  out  of  my  liead,  and  Ma  will  be  sure  to 
ask  me  what’s  the  matter.  Oh,  take  me  down,  some- 
body, please,  please,  please  1” 

Mr.  Boffin  took  her  down,  and  saw  her  driven  away, 
with  her  poor  little  red  eyes  and  weak  chin  peering 
over  the  great  apron  of  the  custard-colored  phaeton, 
as  if  she  had  been  ordered  to  expiate  some  childish 
misdemeanor  by  going  to  bed  in  the  daylight;  and 
were  peeping  over  the  counterpane  in  a miserable  fiut- 
ter  of  repentance  and  low  spirits.  Eeturning  to  the 
breakfast-room,  he  found  Mrs.  Lamrnle  still  standing 
on  her  side  of  the  table,  and  Mr.  Lamrnle  on  his. 

‘‘  I’ll  take  care,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  showing  the  money 
and  the  necklace,  “ that  these  are  soon  given  back.” 
Mrs.  Lamrnle  had  taken  up  her  parasol  from  a side- 
table,  and  stood  sketching  with  it  on  the  pattern  of  the 


> OUR  Mutual  frteko. 


33 


damask  cloth,  as  she  had  sketched  on  the  pattern  of 
Mr.  Twemlow’s  papered  wall. 

“ Yon  will  not  undeceive  her,  I hope,  Mr.  Boffin  ?” 
she  said,  turning  her  head  toward  him,  but  not 
her  eyes. 

“ No,’^  said  Mr.  Boffin. 

1 mean,  as  to  the  worth  and  value  of  her  friend,^^ 
Mrs.  Lammle  explained  in  a measured  voice,  and  with 
an  emphasis  on  her  last  Word. 

No,”  he  returned.  I may  tr}^  to  give  a hint  at 
her  home  that  she  is  in  want  of  kind  and  careful  pro- 
tection, but  I shall  say  no  more  than  that  to  her  pa- 
rents, and  I shall  say  nothing  to  the  young  lady  her- 
self.” 

“ Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin,”  said  Mrs.  Lammle,  still 
sketching,  and  seeming  to  bestow  great  pains  upon  it, 

there  are  not  many  people,  I think,  who,  under  the 
circumstances,  would  have  been  so  considerate  and 
sparing  as  you  have  been  to  me  just  now.  Do  you 
care  to  be  thanked  ?” 

Thanks  are  always  worth  having,”  said  Airs.  Boffin, 
in  her  ready  good  nature. 

Then  thank  you  both.” 

“ Sophronia,”  asked  her  husband,  mockingly,  are 
you  sendiimental  ?” 

Well,  well,  my  good  Sir,”  Mr.  Boffin  interposed, 
^'it^s  a very  good  thing  to  think  well  of  another  per- 
son, and  it^s  a very  good  thing  to  bo  thought  well  of 
hy  another  person.  Airs.  Lammle  will  be  none  the 
worse  for  it,  if  she  is,” 

“ Aluch  obliged.  But  I asked  Airs.  Lammle  if  she 
was.” 


2* 


34 


OtiR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


She  stood  sketching  on  the  table-cloth,  with  her 
face  clouded  and  set,  and  was  silent. 

“ Because/’  said  Alfred,  I am  disposed  to  be  sentl- 
tnental  myself,  on  your  appropriation  of  the  jewels 
and  the  money,  Mr.  Boffin.  As  our  little  Qeorgiana 
said,  three  five-pound  notes  are  better  than  nothing, 
and  if  you  sell  a necklace  you  can  buy  things  with  the 
produce.” 

If  you  sell  it,”  was  Mr.  Boffin’s  comment,  as  he 
put  it  in  his  pocket. 

Alfred  followed  it  with  his  looks,  and  also  greedily 
pursued  the  notes  until  they  vanished  into  Mr.  Boffin’s 
Waistcoat  pocket.  Then  he  directed  a look  half  exas- 
perated and  half  jeering,  at  his  wife.  She  still  stood 
sketching  ; but,  as  she  sketched,  there  was  a struggle 
within  her,  which  found  expression  iu  the  depth  of  the 
few  last  lines  the  parasol  point  indented  into  the  table- 
cloth, and  then  some  tears  fell  from  her  eyes. 

<<  Why,  confound  the  woman,”  exclaimed  Lammle, 
she  is  sentimental  I” 

She  wmlked  to  the  window,  flinching  under  his  angry 
stare,  looked  out  for  a moment,  and  turned  round  quite 
coldly. 

You  have  had  no  former  cause  of  complaint  on  the 
sentimental  score,  Alfred,  and  you  will  have  n^e  in  fu- 
ture. It  is  not  worth  your  noticing.  We  go  abroad 
sooDj  with  the  money  we  have  earned  here  ?” 

“ You  know  we  do  ; you  know  we  must.” 

There  is  no  fear  of  my  taking  any  sentiment  with  me. 
I should  soon  be  eased  of  it  if  I did.  But  it  will  be  all 
left  behind.  It  is  all  left  behind.  Are  you  ready, 
Alfred  ?” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


35 


**  What  the  deuce  have  I been  waiting  for  but  you, 
Sophroiiia 

Let  us  go,  then.  I am  sorry  I have  delayed  our  dig- 
nified departure.” 

She  passed  out  and  he  followed  her.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Boffin  had  the  curiosity  softly  to  raise  a window  and  look  - 
after  them  as  they  went  down  the  long  street.  They 
walked  arm  in  arm,  showily  enough,  but  without  appear- 
ing to  interchange  a syllable.  It  might  have  been  fanci- 
ful to  suppose  that  under  their  outer  bearing  there  was 
something  of  the  shamed  air  of  two  cheats  who  were 
linked  together  by  concealed  handcuffis  ; but,  not  so,  to 
suppose  that  they  were  haggardly  weary  of  one  another, 
of  themselves,  and  of  all  this  world.  In  turning  the 
street  corner  they  might  have  turned  out  of  this  world, 
for  any  thing  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin  ever  saw  of  them  to 
the  contrary  • for  they  set  eyes  on  the  Lammles  never 
more. 


36 


CUE  MUTUAL 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  GOLDEN  DUSTMAN  SINKS  AGAIN. 

The  evening  of  that  day  being  one  of  the  reading 
evenings  at  the  Bower,  Mr.  Boffin  kissed  Mrs.  Boffin  after 
a five  o^elock  dinner,  and  trotted  out,  nursing  his  big 
Ktick  in  both  arms,  so  that,  as  of  old,  it  seemed  to  be 
whispering  in  his  ear.  He  carried  so  very  attentive  an 
expression  on  his  countenance  that  it  appeared  as  if  the 
confidential  discourse  of  the  big  stick  required  to  be  fol- 
lowed closely.  Mr.  Boffin’s  face  was  like  the  face  of  a 
thoughtful  listener  to  an  intricate  communication,  and,  in 
trotting  along,  he  occasionally  glanced  at  that  companion 
with  the  look  of  a man  who  was  interposing  the  remark  : 
‘‘You  don’t  mean  it  !” 

Mr.  BoSin  and  his  stick  went  on  alone  together  until 
they  arrived  at  certain  cross-ways  where  they  would  be 
likely  to  fall  in  with  any  one  coming,  at  about  the  same 
time,  from  Clerkenwell  to  the  Bower.  Here  they  stop- 
ped, and  Mr.  Boffin  consulted  his  watch. 

“ It  wants  five  minutes,  good,  to  Yenus’s  appointment,” 
said  he.  “ I’m  rather  early.” 

But  Venus  was  a punctual  man,  and,  even  as  Mr. 
Boffin  replaced  his  watch  in  his  pocket,  was  to  be  descried 
coming  toward  him.  He  quickened  his  pace  on  seeing 
Mr.  Boffin  already  at  the  place  of  meeting,  and  ^vas  soon 
at  his  side. 


OVll  MtrrUAL  FRIEND. 


ST 


'‘Thank-ee,  Yenus/^  said  Mr.  Boffin.  Thank’ee, 
thankk^e,  thank' ee 

It  would  not  have  been  very  evident  why  he  thanked 
the  anatomist,  but  for  liis  furnishing  the  explanation  in 
what  he  went  on  to  say. 

“ All  right,  Yenus,  all  right.  Now  that  you’ve  been 
to  see  me,  and  have  consented  to  keep  up  the  appearance 
before  Wegg  of  remaining  in  it  for  a time,  I have  got  a 
sort  of  a backer.  All  right,  Yenus.  Thank’ee,  Yenus. 
Thank’ee,  thauk’ee,  thank’ee  !” 

Mr.  Yenus  shook  the  profiered  hand  with  a modest  air, 
and  they  pursued  the  direction  of  the  Bower. 

“ Do  you  think  Wegg  is  likely  to  drop  down  upon  me 
to-night,  Yenus?’  inquired  Mr.  Boffin,  wistfully,  as  they 
went  along. 

I think  he  is.  Sir.” 

‘‘Have  you  any  particular  reason  for  thinking  so, 
Yenus  ?” 

“ \Yell,  Sir,”  returned  that  personage,  “the  fact  is,  he 
has  given  me  anoth'er  look-in  to  make  sure  of  what  he 
calls  our  stock-in-trade  being  correct,  and  he  has  mentioned 
liis  intention  that  he  was  not  to  be  put  off  beginning  with 
you  the  very  next  time  you  should  come.  And  this,” 
hinted  Mr.  Yenus,  delicately,  “ being  the  very  next  time, 
you  know.  Sir — ” 

— “ Why,  therefore  you  suppose  he’ll  turn  to  at  the 
grindstone,  eh,  Wegg?”  said  Mr.  Boffin. 

“ Just  so.  Sir.” 

^ Mr.  Boffin  took  his  nose  in  his  hand,  as  if  it  were 
already  excoriated,  and  the  sparks  w'ere  beginning  to  fly 
out  of  that  feature.  “ He’s  a terrible  fellow,  Yenus  ; he’s 
an  awful  fellow.  I don’t  know  how  ever  I shall  go 


S8 


OtjR  3krUTt)AL  FETElSTD. 


tliroiigli  with  it.  You  must  stand  by  me,  Yenus,  like  a 
good  man  and  true.  You’ll  do  all  you  can  to  stand  by 
me,  Yenus  ; won’t  you?” 

Mr.  Yenus  replied  with  the  assurance  that  he  would  ; 
and  Mr.  Boffin,  looking  anxious  and  dispirited,  pursued 
the  way  in  silence  until  they  rang  at  the  Bower  gate. 
The  stumping  approach  of  Wegg  was  soon  heard  behind 
it,  and  as  it  turned  upon  its  hinges  he  became  visible  with 
his  hand  on  the  lock. 

^‘Mr.  Boffin,  Sir?”  he  remarked.  You’re  quite  a 
stranger  !” 

Yes.  IVe  been  otherwise  occupied,  Wegg.” 

Have  you  indeed,  Sir  ?”  returned  the  literary  gentle- 
man, with  a threatening  sneer.  ‘‘Hah  ! I’ve  been  look- 
ing for  you,  Sir,  rather  what  I may  call  specially,” 

“ You  don’t  say  so,  Wegg  ?” 

“ Yes,  I do  say  so.  Sir.  And  if  you  hadn’t  come  round 
to  me  to-night,  dash  my  wig  if  I wouldn’t  have  come 
round  to  you  to-morrow.  Now  ! I tell  you  !” 

“Nothing  wrong,  I hope,  Wegg?” 

“ Oh,  no,  Mr.  Boffin,”  was  the  ironical  answer. 
“ Nothing  wrong  1 What  should  be  wrong  in  Boffinses 
Bower  I Step  in,  Sir, 

“ ‘ If  you’ll  come  to  the  Bower  I’ve  shaded  for  you, 

Your  bed  sha’n’t  be  roses  all  spangled  with  doo  : 

Will  you,  will  you,  will  you,  will  you  come  to  the  Bower? 

Oh,  won’t  you,  won’t  you,  won’t  you,  won’t  you  come  to  the  Bower  V ” 

An  unholy  glare  of  contradiction  and  offense  shone  iu 
the  eyes  of  Mr.  Y^egg  as  he  turned  the  key  on  his  patron^ 
after  ushering  him  into  the  yard  with  this  vocal  quotation. 
Mr.  Boffin’s  air  was  crest-fallen  and  submissive.  Whis- 


OUB  MOTUAL  FRIEND. 


39 


pered  Wegg  to  Yenus,  as  they  crossed  the  yard  behind 
him  : “ Look  at  the  worm  and  minion  ; he’s  down  in  the 
mouth  already.”  Whispered  Yenus  to  Wegg  ; ^‘That^s 
because  I’ve  told  him.  I’ve  prepared  the  way  for  you.” 
Mr.  Boffin j entering  the  usual  chamber,  laid  his  stick 
upon  the  settle  usually  reserved  for  him,  thrust  his  hands 
into  his  pockets,  andj  with  his  shoulders  raised  and  his 
hat  drooping  back  upon  them,  looked  disconsolately  at 
Wegg.  ‘‘  My  friend  and  partner  Mr.  Yenus  gives  me  to 
understand,”  remarked  that  man  of  might,  addressing 
him,  “ that  you  are  aware  of  our  power  over  you.  Now, 
when  you  have  took  your  hat  off,  we’ll  go  into  that 
pint.” 

Mr.  Boffin  shook  it  off  with  one  shake,  so  that  it 
dropped  on  the  floor  behind  him,  and  remained  in  his 
former  attitude  with  his  former  rueful  look  upon  him. 

First  of  all,  I’m  a-going  to  call  you  Boffin,  for 
short,”  said  Wegg.  ‘Mf  you  -don’t  like  it,  it’s  open  to 
you  to  lump  it.” 

I don’t  mind  it,  Wegg,”  Mr.  Boffin  replied. 

That’s  lucky  for  you,  Boffin.  Now  do  you  want  to 
be  read  to  ?” 

*‘I  don’t  particularly  care  about  it  to-night,  Wegg.” 

‘‘  Because  if  you  did  want  to,”  pursued  Mr.  Wegg,  the 
brilliancy  of  whose  point  was  dimmed  by  his  having  been 
unexpectedly  answered,  ''  you  wouldn’t  be.  I’ve  been 
your  slave  long  enough.  I’m  not  to  be  trampled  under 
foot  by  a dustman  any  more.  With  the  single  exception 
of  the  salary,  I renounce  the  whole  and  total  sitiwation.” 
Since  you  say  it  is  to  be  so,  Wegg,”  returned  Mr. 
Boffin,  with  folded  hands,  I suppose  it  must  be.” 

J suppose  it  must  be,”  Wegg  retorted.  '‘Next  (to 


40 


OtJR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


clear  the  ground  before  coming  to  business),  vouVe 
placed  in  this  yard  a skulking,  a sneaking,  and  a sniffing 
menial/’ 

He  hadn’t  a cold  in  his  head  when  I sent  him  here,” 
said  Mr.  Boffin. 

“ Boffin  !”  retorted  Wegg,  “ I warn  you  not  to  attempt 
a joke  with  me  !” 

Here  Mr.  Yenus  interposed,  and  remarked  that  he  con- 
ceived Mr.  Boffin  to  have  taken  the  description  literally  ; 
the  rather,  forasmuch  as  he,  Mr.  Yenus,  had  himself  sup- 
posed the  menial  to  have  contracted  an  affliction  or  a 
habit  of  the  nose,  involving  a serious  drawback  on  the 
pleasures  of  social  intercourse,  until  he  had  discovered 
that  Mr.  Y^egg’s  description  of  him  tvas  to  be  accepted 
as  merely  figurative. 

Any  how,  and  every  how,”  said  Wegg,  *^he  has  been 
planted  here,  and  he  is  here.  Now,  I w^on’t  have  him 
here.  So  I call  upon  Boffin,  before  I say  another  wmrd, 
to  fetch  him  in  and  send  him  packing  to  the  right- 
about.” 

The  unsuspecting  Sloppy  was  at  that  moment  airing 
his  many  buttons  within  view  of  the  window.  Mr.  Boffin, 
after  a short  interval  of  impassive  discomfiture,  opened 
the  window  and  beckoned  him  to  come  in. 

I call  upon  Boffin,”  said  Wegg,  wdth  one  arm  a-kim- 
bo  and  his  head  on  one  side,  like  a bullying  counsel  paus- 
ing for  an  answer  from  a witness,  to  inform  that  menial 
that  I am  Master  here  !” 

In  humble  obedience,  when  the  button-gleaming  Sloppy 
entered  Mr.  Boffin  said  to  him  : Sloppy,  my  fine  fellow, 

Mr.  Wegg  is  Master  here.  He  doesn’t  wmnt  you,  and 
you  are  to  go  from  here.” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


41 


For  good  Mr.  Wegg  severely  stipulated.. 

For  good/^  said  Mr.  Bofan. 

Sloppy  stared,  with  both  his  eyes  and  all  bis  buttons, 
and  his  mouth  wide  open  ; but  was  without  loss  of  time 
escorted  forth  by  Silas  Wegg,  pushed  out  at  the  yard 
gate  by  the  shoulders,  and  locked  out. 

‘‘  The  atomspear,'^  said  Wegg,  stumping  back  into  the 
room  again,  a little  reddened  by  his  late  exertion,  is  now 
freer  for  the  purposes  of  respiration.  Mr.  Yenus,  Sir, 
take  a chair.  Boffin,  you  may  sit  down.^^ 

Mr.  Boffin,  still  with  his  hands  ruefully  stuck  in  his 
pockets,  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  settle,  shrunk  into  a small 
compass,  and  eyed  the  potent  Silas  with  conciliatory 
looks. 

^‘Tbis  gentleman, said  Silas  Wegg,  pointing  out 
Yenus,  this  gentleman.  Boffin,  is  more  milk  and  watery 
with  you  than  Pll  be.  But  he  hasn’t  borne  the  Boman 
yoke  as  I have,  nor  yet  he  hasn’t  been  required  to  pander 
to  your  depraved  appetite  for  miserly  characters.” 

“1  never  meant,  mydear  Y’^egg — ” Mr.  Boffin  wms 
beginning,  wdien  Silas  stopped  him. 

“ Hold  your  tongue.  Boffin  ! Answer  when  you’re 
called  upon  to  answer.  Yoivil  find  you’ve  got  quite 
enough  to  do.  ISTow,  you’re  aware — are  you — that  you’re 
in  possession  of  property  to  whi(ffi  you’ve  no  right  at  all  ^ 
Are  you  aware  of  that  ?” 

Yenus  tells  me  so,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  glancing  toward 
him  for  any  support  he  could  give. 

I tell  you  so,”  returned  Silas.  ‘‘  JSTow,  here’s  my 
hat.  Boffin,  and  here’s  my  walking-stick.  Trifle  with  me, 
and  instead  of  making  a bargain  with  you.  I’ll  put  on  my 
hat  and  take  up  my  walking-stick,  and  go  out  and  make 


42 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


a bargaiu  with  the  rightful  owner.  Now,  v/hat  do  you 
say  T’ 

I say,”  returned  Mr.  Boffin,  leaning  forward  in 
alarmed  appeal,  with  his  hands  on  his  knees,  ‘‘  that  I am 
sure  I don’t  want  to  trifle,  Wegg.  I have  said  so  to 
V enus.” 

You  uertainiy  have,  Sir,”  said  Venus. 

You’re  too  milk  and  watery  with  our  friend,  you  are 
indeed,”  remonstrated  Silas,  with  a disapproving  shake  of 
his  wooden  head.  Then  at  once  you  confess  yourself 
•desiiuus  to  conic  to  tenns,  do  you.  Boffin  ? Before  you 
answer,  keep  this  hat  well  in  your  mind,  and  also  this 
walking-stick.” 

“ I am  willing,  Wegg,  to  come  to  terras.” 

Willing  won’t  do,  Bofiin.  I won’t  take  willing. 
Are  you  desirous  to  come  to  terms  T Do  you  ask  to 
be  allowed  as  a favor  to  come  to  terras  ?”  Mr.  Wegg 
again  planted  his  arm,  and  put  his  head  on  one  side. 

“ Yes.”  • 

Yes  what  said  the  inexorable  Wegg  : I won’t 

take  yes.  I’ll  have  it  out  of  you  in  full,  Boffin.” 

Dear  me,”  cried  that  unfortunate  gentleman.  “ I 
am  so  worrited  I I ask  to  be  allowed  to  come  to 
terms,  supposing  your  document  is  all  correct.” 

Don’t  you  be  afraid  of  that,”  said  Silas,  poking  his 
head  at  him.  “You  shall  be  satisfied  by  seeing  it. 
Mr.  Venus  will  show  it  you,  and  I’ll  hold  you  the  while. 
Then  you  want  to  know  what  the  terms  are.  Is  that 
about  the  sum  and  substance  of  it  ? Will  you  or  won’t 
you  answer.  Boffin  ?”  For  be  had  paused  a moment. 

“ Dear  me  I”  cried  that  unfortunate  gentleman  again, 

I am  worrited  to  that  degree  that  I’m  almost  off  my 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


43 


bead.  You  , hurry  me  so.  Be  so  good  as  name  the 
terms, 

Xow,  mark,  Boffin,^’  returned  Silas : Mark  ^em 

well,  because  theyh'e  the  lowest  terms  and  the  only 
terms.  You’ll  throw  j’our  Mound  (the  little  Mound 
as  comes  to  you  any  way)  into  the  general  estate,  and 
then  you’ll  divide  the  whole  property  into  three  parts, 
and  you’ll  keep  one  and  hand  over  the  others.” 

Mr.  Venus’s  mouth  screwed  itself  up  as  Mr.  Boffin’s 
face  lengthened  itself;  Mr.  Venus  not  having  been 
prepared  for  such  a rapacious  demand. 

Now,  wmit  d bit,  Boffin,”  Wegg  proceeded,  there’s 
something  more.  You’ve  been  a squandering  this 
property — lajdng  some  of  it  out  on  yourself.  That 
won’t  do.  You’ve  bought  a house.  You’ll  be  charged 
for  it.” 

I shall  be  ruined,  Wegg  !”  Mr.  Boffin  faintly  pro- 
tested. 

“Now,  wait  a bit,  Boffin;  there’s  something  more. 
You’ll  leave  me  in  sole  custody  of  these  Mounds  till 
they’re  all  laid  low.  If  any  vraluables  should  be  found 
in  ’em.  I’ll  take  care  of  such  waluables.  You’ll  pro- 
duce your  contract  for  the  sale  of  the  Mounds,  that  we 
may  know  to  a penny  what  they’re  worth,  and  you’ll 
make  out  likewise  an  exact  list  of  all  the  other  pro- 
perty. When  the  Mounds  is  cleared  away  to  the  last 
shovelful,  the  final  diwision  will  come  off.” 

“ Dreadful,  dreadful,  dreadful  ! I shall  die  in  a 
work-house  !”  cried  the  Golden  Dustman,  with  his 
hands  to  his  head. 

“Now,  wait  a bit,  Boffin;  there’s  something  more. 
You’ve  been  unlawfully  ferreting'  about  this  yard. 


44 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEMD. 


YoliH’e  been  seen  in  tlie  act  of  ferreting  about  this 
yard.  Two  pair  of  eyes  at  the  present  momentjbrought 
to  bear  upon  you,  have  seen  you  dig  up  a Dutch 
bottle.^’ 

It  was  mine,  Wegg,”  protested  Mr.  Boffin.  “ I 
put  it  there  myself” 

What  was  it,  Boffin  ?”  inquired  Silas. 

“Not  gold,  not  silver,  not  bank-notes,  not  jewels, 
nothing  that  you  could  turn  into  money, 'Wegg;  upon 
my  soul  !” 

^‘Prepared,  Mr.  Venus,”  said  Wegg,  turning  to  his 
partner,  with  a knowing  and  superior  air,  ‘^for  an 
ewasive  answer  on  the  part  of  our  dusty  friend  here,  I 
have  hit  out  a little  idea  which  I think  will  meet  your 
views.  We  charge  that  bottle  against  our  dusty  friend 
at  a thousand  pound.” 

Mr.  Boffin  drew  a deep  groan. 

“Now,  wait  a bit.  Boffin  ; there^s  something  more. 
In  your  employment  is  an  underhanded  sneak,  named 
Rokesmith.  It  wonT  answer  to  have  him  about  while 
this  business  of  ours  is  about.  He  must  be  dis- 
charged.” 

“ Rokesmith  is  already  discharged,”  said  Mr.  Boffin, 
speaking  in  a muffled  voice,  with  his  hands  before  his 
face,  as  he  rocked  himself  on  the  settle. 

“ Already  discharged,  is  he  ?”  returned  Wegg,  sur- 
prised. “ Oh  ! Then,  Boffin,  I believe  there^s  nothing 
more  at  present.” 

The  unlucky  gentleman  continuing  to  rock  himself 
to  and  fro,  and  to  utter  an  occasional  moan,  Mr.  Venus 
besought  him  to  bear  up  against  his  reverses,  and  to 
take  time  to  accustom  himself  to  the  thought  of  his 


OL"R  MUTUAL  FRIEND* 


45 


new  position.  But  his  taking  time  was  exactly  the 
thing  of  all  others  that  Silas  Wegg  could  not  be  induced 
to  hear  of.  Yes  or  no,  and  no  half  measures  !’^  was 
the  motto  which  that  obdurate  person  many  times  re- 
peated ; shaking  his  fist  at  Mr.  Boffin,  and  pegging 
his  motto  into  the  floor  with  his  wooden  leg*,  in  a 
threatening  and  alarming  manner. 

At  length  Mr.  Boffin  entreated  to  be  allowed  a quar- 
ter of  an  bourns  grace,  and  a cooling  walk  of  that  du- 
ration in  the  yard.  With  some  difficulty  Mr.  Wegg 
granted  this  great  favor,  but  only  on  condition  that  he 
accompanied  Mr.  Boffin  in  his  walk,  as  not  knowing 
what  he  might  fraudulently  unearth  if  he  were  left  to 
himself.  A more  absurd  sight  than  Mr.  Boffin  in  his 
mental  irritation  trotting  vei*}^  nimbly,  and  Mr.  Wegg 
hopping  after  him  with  great  exertion,  eager  to  watch 
the  slightest  turn  of  an  eyelash,  lest  it  should  indicate 
a spot  rich  with  some  secret,  assuredly  had  never  been 
seen  in  the  shadow  of  the  Mounds.  Mr.  Wegg  was 
much  distressed  when  the  quarter  of  an  hour  expired, 
and  came  hopping  in,  a very  bad  second. 

I can’t  help  myself,”  cried  Mr.  Boffin,  flouncing 
on  the  settle  in  a forlorn  manner,  with  his  hands  deep 
in  his  pockets,  as  if  his  pockets  had  sunk.  What’s 
the  good  of  my  pretending  to  stand  out  when  I can’t 
help  myself?  I must  give  in  to  the  terms.  But  I 
should  like  to  see  the  document.” 

Wegg,  who  was  all  for  clenching  the  nail  he  liad 
so  strongly  driven  home,  announced  that  Boffin  should 
see  it  without  an  hour’s  delay.  Taking  him  into  cus- 
tody for  that  purpose,  or  overshadowing  him  as  if  he 
really  were  his  Evil  Genius  in  visible  form,  Mr.  Wegg 


46 


OtTB  MUTtJAL 


clapped  Mr.  Boffin’s  liat  upon  the  back  of  his  head, 
and  walked  him  out  by  the  arm,  asserting  a proprie- 
torship ovet  his  soiil  and  body  that  was  at  once  more 
grim  and  more  ridiculous  than  anything  in  Mr.  Yenus’s 
rare  collection.  That  light-haired  gentleman  followed 
close  upon  their  heels,  at  least  backing  up  Mr.  Boffiin 
in  a literal  sense,  if  he  had  not  had  recent  opportunities 
of  doing  so  spiritually;  while  Mr.  Boffin,  trotting  on 
as  hard  as  he  could  trot,  involved  Silas  Wegg  in  fre- 
quent collisions  with  the  public,  much  as  a preoccu- 
pied blind  man’s  dog  may  be  seen  to  involve  his 
master. 

Thus  they  reached  Mr.  Venus’s  establishment,  some- 
what heated  by  the  nature  of  their  progress  thither.  Mr/ 
Wegg,  especially,  was  in  a flaming  glow,  and  stood  in  the 
little  shop,  panting  and  mopping  his  head  with  his  pocket- 
handkerchief,  speechless  for  several  minutes. 

Meanvdiile  Mr.  Venus,  who  had  left  the  dueling  frogs 
to  fight  it  out  in  his  absence  by  candle-light  for  the  pub- 
lic delectation,  put  the  shutters  up.  "When  all  was  snug 
and  the  sliop-door  fastened  he  said  to  the  perspiring  Silas  : 
1 suppose,  Mr.  Wegg,  we  may  now  produce  the  jDaper  ?” 

‘‘  Hold  on  a minute,  Sir,”  replied  that  discreet  charac- 
ter ; hold  on  a minute.  Will  you  obligingly  shove  that 
box — which  you  mentioned  on  a former  occasion  as  con- 
taining miscellanies — toward  me  in  the  midst  of  the  shop 
here  ?” 

Mr.  Venus  did  as  he  was  asked. 

‘'Very  good,”  said  Silas,  looking  about;  “ve — ry 
good.  Will  you  hand  me  that  chair,  Sir,  to  put  a-top 
of  it  ?” 

Venus  handed  him  the  chair. 


OtTE  MUTUAL  F^EKD. 


47 


Kow,  Boffin/^  said  Wegg,  mount  up  here  and  take 
your  seat,  will  you 

Mr.  Boffin,  as  if  he  were  about  to  have  liis  portrait 
painted,  or  to  be  electrified,  or  to  be  made  a Freemason^ 
or  to  be  placed  at  any  other  solitary  disadvantage, 
ascended  the  rostrum  prepared  for  him. 

“ .Now,  Mr.  Yenus,’'^  said  Silas,  taking  offi  his  coat, 
“ when  I catches  our  friend  here  'round  the  arms  and 
body,  and  pins  him  tight  to  the  back  of  the  chair,  you 
may  show  him  what  be  wants  to  see.  If  youfil  open  it 
and  hold  it  well  up  in  one  hand,  Sir,  and  a candle  in  the 
other,  he  can  read  it  charming.^^ 

Mr.  Boffin  seemed  rather  inclined  to  object  to  these 
precautionary  arrangements,  but,  being  immediately  em^ 
braced  by  Wegg,  resigned  himself.  Yenus  then  produced 
the  document,  and  Mr.  Boffin  slowly  spelt  it  out  aloud 
so  very  slowly  that  Wegg,  who  was  holding  him  in  the 
chair  with  the  gi’ip  of  a wrestleiv  became  again  exceed- 
ingly the  worse  for  his  exertions.  “ Say  wdien  you’ve  put 
it  safe  back,  Mr.  Yenus,”  he  uttered  with  difficulty,  ‘Mor 
the  strain  of  this  is  terrimenjious.” 

At  length  the  document  was  restored  to  its  place  ; and 
Wegg,  whose  uncomfortabie  attitude  had  been  that  of  a 
very  persevering  man  unsuccessfully  attempting  to  stand 
upon  his  head,  took  a seat  to  recover  himself.  Mr.  Boffin,, 
for  his  part,  made  no  attempt  to  come  dowm,  but  remain- 
ed aloft  disconsolate. 

‘‘Well,  Boffiu,”^  said  Y^egg,  as  soon  as  he  was  in  a 
condition  to  speak.  “ Now,  you  know.” 

“Yes,  Wegg,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  meekly.  “Now  I 
know.” 

“ Yon  have  no  doubts  about  it,  Boffin.” 


48 


OUIt  MUTUAL  FKIKND* 


No,  Wegg.  No,  Weg*g.  None,’’  was  the  slow  and 
sad  ^epl3^ 

'' Then,  take  care,  you,”  said  Wegg,  ^Hhat  you  stick 
to  your  conditions.  Mr.  Yenus,  if  on  this  auspicious  oc- 
casion you  should  happen  to  have  a drop  of  any  thing 
not  quite  so  mild  as  tea  in  the  ’ouse,  I think  I’d  take  the 
friendly  liberty  of  asking  you  for  a specimen  of  it.” 

Mr.  Yenus,  reminded  of  the  duties  of  hospitality,  pro- 
duced some  rum.  In  answer  to  the  inquiry,  “ ^Vill  you 
mix  it,  Mr.  Wegg  ?”  that  gentleman  pleasantly  rejoined, 
I think  not,  Sir.  On  so  auspicious  an  occasion  I prefer 
to  take  it  in  the  form  of  a Gum-Tickler.” 

Mr.  Boffin,  declining  rum,  being  still  elevated  on  his 
pedestal,  was  in  a convenient  position  to  be  addressed* 
Y^egg  having  eyed  him  with  an  impudent  air  at  leisure, 
addressed  him,,  therefore,  while  refreshing  himself  with 
his  dram. 

Bof— fin  !” 

Yes,  YYgg,”  he  answered,  coming  out  of  a fit  of 
abstraction,  with  a sigh. 

I haven’t  mentioned  one  thing,  because  it’s  a detail 
that  comes  of  course.  You  must  be  follow^ed  up,  you 
know.  You  must  be  kept  under  inspection.” 

I don’t  quite  understand,”  said  Mr.  Boffin. 

“ Don’t  you  ?”  sneered  Wegg.  Y^here’s  your  wits, 
Boffin  ? Till  the  Mounds  is  down  and  this  business  com- 
pleted, you’re  accountable  for  all  the  property,  recollect* 
Consider  yourself  accountable  to  me.  Mr.  Yenus  here 
being  too  milk  and  watery  with  you,  I am  the  boy  for  you.” 

I’ve  been  a-thiuking,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  in  a tone  of 
despondency,  that  I must  keep  the  knowledge  from  my 
old  lady.” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


49 


The  knowledge  of  the  diwision,  d’ye  mean  ?”  inquired 
Wegg,  helping  himself  to  a third  Gum-Tickler — for  he 
had  already  taken  a second. 

Yes.  If  she  was  to  die  first  of  us  two  she  might 
then  think  all  her  life,  poor  thing,  that  I had  got  the 
rest  of  the  fortune  still,  and  was  saving  it.”  * 

I suspect,  Boffin,”  returned  Wegg,  shaking  his  head 
sagaciously,  and  bestowing  a wooden  wink  upon  him, 
**  that  you’ve  found  out  some  account  of  some  old  chap, 
supposed  to  be  a Miser,  who  got  himself  the  credit  of 
having  much  more  money  than  he  had.  However,  I 
don’t  mind,” 

''Don’t  you  see,  Wegg?”  Mr.  Boffin  feelingly  repre- 
sented to  him  : " don’t  you  see  ? My  old  lady  has  got 
so  used  to  the  property.  It  would  be  such  a hard 
surprise.” 

" I don’t  see  it  at  all,”  blustered  Wegg.  " You’ll  have 
as  much  as  I shall.  And  who  are  you  ?” 

"But  then,  again,”  Mr.  Boffin  gently  represented; 
my  old  lad}^  has  very  upright  principles.” 

" Who’s  your  old  lady,”  returned  Wegg,  to  set  herself 
up  for  having  nprighter  principles  than  mine  ?” 

Mr.  Boffin  seemed  a little  less  patient  at  this  point 
than  at  any  other  of  the  negotiations.  But  he  command- 
ed himself,  and  said  tamely  enough  : "I  think  it  must  be 
kept  from  my  old  lady,  Wegg.” 

" Well,”  said  Wegg,  contemptuously,  though,  perhaps, 
perceiving  some  hint  of  danger  otherwise,  "keep  it  from 
your  old  lady,  /ain’t  going  to  tell  her.  I can  have  you 
under  close  inspection  v/ithout  that.  I’m  as  good  a man 
as  you  and  better.  Ask  me  to  dinner.  Give  me  the  run 
of  your  ’ouse.  I was  good  enough  for  you  and  your  old 

o 


50 


OUK  MUTUAL  FKIEND. 


lady  once,  when  I helped  you  out  with  your  weal  and 
hammers.  ^ Was  there  no  Miss  Elizabeth,  Master  George, 
Aunt  Jane,  and  Uncle  Parker,  before  you  two 
^‘Gently,  Mr.  Wegg,  gently Venus  urged, 

‘‘  Milk  and  water-erily,  you  mean.  Sir,”  he  returned, 
with  some  little  thickness  of  speech,  in  consequence  of 
the  Gum-Ticklers  having  tickled  it.  ‘‘  I’ve  got  him  under 
inspection,  and  I’ll  inspect  him, 

“ ‘ Along  the  line  the  signal  ran 

England  expects  as  this  present  naan 
Will  keep  Boffin  to  his  duty/ 

. — Boffin,  I’ll  see  you  home.” 

Mr.  Boffin  descended  with  an  air  of  resignation,  and 
gave  himself  up,  after  taking  friendly  leave  of  Mr. 
Venus.  Once  more  Inspector  and  Inspected  went 
through  the  streets  together,  and  so  arrived  at  Mr. 
Boffin’s  door. 

But  even  there,  when  Mr.  Boffin  had  given  his  keeper 
good  night,  and  had  let  himself  in  with  his  key,  and  had 
softly  closed  the  door,  even  there  and  then,  the  all-power- 
ful Silas  must  needs  claim  another  assertion  of  his  newly- 
asserted  power, 

Bof — fin  I”  he  called  through  the  keyhole. 

“ Yes,  Wegg,”  was  the  reply  through  the  same  chan- 
nel. 

Come  out.  Show  yourself  again.  Let’s  have  another 
look  at  you  I” 

Mr.  Boffin — ah,  how  fallen  from  the  high  estate  of  bis 
honest  simplicity  1 — opened  the  door  and  obeyed. 

Go  in.  You  may  get  to  bed  now,”  said  Wegg,  with 
a grin. 


OtJB  MUTUAL  FKtEKI), 


51 


The  door  was  hardly  closed  when  he  again  called 
through  the  keyhole  : 

Bof— fin 
Yes,  Wegg  ” 

This  time  Silas  made  no  reply,  but  labored  with  a will 
at  turning  an  imaginary  grindstone  outside  the  keyhole, 
while  Mr.  BofQn  stooped  at  it  within  ; he  then  laughed 
silently,  and  stumped  home. 


52 


Otilt  MtJTIjAL  FRlEKt?* 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A RUNAWAY  MAfCS. 

CHERUBid  Pa  arose  with  as  little  noise  as  possible  from 
beside  majestic  Ma,  one  morning  early,  having  a holiday 
before  him.  Pa  and  the  lovely  woman  had  a rather  par-* 
ticular  appointment  to  keep.  « 

Yet  Pa  and  the  lovely  woman  were  not  going  out  toge- 
ther. Bella  was  up  before  four,  but  had  no  bonnet  on. 
She  was  waiting  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs — was  sitting  on 
the  bottom  stair,  in  fact— to  receive  Pa  when  he  came 
down,  but  her  only  object  seemed  to  be  to  get  Pa  well 
out  of  the  house. 

Your  breakfast  is  ready,  Sir,’^  whispered  Bella,  after 
greeting  him  with  a hug,  and  all  you  have  to  do  is  to 
eat  it  up  and  drink  it  up,  and  escape.  How  do  you  feel, 
Pa  r 

To  the  best  of  my  judgment,  like  a house-breaker 
tiev7  to  the  business,  my  dear,  who  can^t  make  himself 
quite  comfortable  till  he  is  off  the  premise.” 

Bella  tucked  her  arm  in  his  with  a merry,  noiseless 
laugh,  and  they  went  down  to  the  kitchen  on  tip-toe  ; she 
stopping  on  every  separate  stair  to  put  the  tip  of  her  fore- 
finger on  her  rosy  lips,  and  then  lay  it  on  his  lips,  accord- 
ing to  her  favorite  petting  way  of  kissing  Pa. 

“ How  do  yo7i,  feel,  my  love  asked  R.  W.,  as  she 
gave  him  his  breakfast. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


53 


I feel  as  if  tbp  Fortune-teller  was  coming  true,  dear 
Fa,  and  the  fair  little  man  was  turning  out  as  was  pre- 
dicted.’^ 

Ho  ! Only  the  fair  little  man  said  her  father. 
Bella  put  another  of  those  finger-seals  upon  his  lips, 
and  then  said,  kneeling  down  by  him  as  he  set  at  table  : 
Kow,  look  here.  Sir.  If  you  keep  well  up  to  the  mark 
this  day,  what  do  you  think  you  deserve  ? What  did  I 
promise  you  should  have,  if  you  were  good,  upon  a cer- 
tain occasion 

“ Upon  ray  word  I don’t  remember.  Precious.  Yes,  I 
do,  though.  Wasn’t  it  one  of  those  beau — tiful  tresses  ?” 
with  his  caressing  hand  upon  her  hair. 

“ Wasn’t  it,  too  !”  returned  Bella,  pretending  to  pout, 
upon  my  word  ! Do  you  know.  Sir,  that  the  Fortune- 
teller would  give  five  thousand  guineas  (if  it  was  quite 
convenient  to  him,  which  it  isn’t)  for  the  lovely  piece  I 
have  cut  off  for  you  ? You  can  form  no  idea.  Sir,  of  the 
number  of  times  he  kissed  quite  a scrubby  little  piece — in 
comparison — that  I cut  off  for  him.  And  he  wears  it, 
too,  round  his  neck,  I can  tell  you  ! ISTear  his  heart  !” 
said  Bella,  nodding.  ^‘Ah  ! very  near  his  heart!  How- 
ever, you  have  been  a good,  good  boy,  and  you  are  the 
best  of  all  the  dearest  boys  that  ever  were  this  morning, 
and  here’s  the  chain  I have  made  of  it,  Pa,tind  you  must 
let  me  put  it  round  your  neck  with  my  own  loving  hands.” 
As  Pa  bent  his  head  she  cried  over  him  a little,  and 
then  said  (after  having  stopped  to  dry  her  eyes  on  his 
white  waistcoat,  the  discovery  of  which  incongruous  cir- 
cumstance made  her  laugh)  : Now,  darling  Pa,  give  me 

your  hands  that  I may  fold  them  together,  and  do  you 
say  after  me  : — My  little  Bella.” 


54: 


OTTR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


“ My  little  Bella, repeated  Pa. 

I am  very  fond  of  you.’’ 

I am  very  fond  of  you,  my  darling,”  said  Pa. 

You  mustn’t  say  any  thing  not  dictated  to  yon,  Sir. 
You  daren’t  do  it  in  your  responses  at  Church,  and  you 
mustn’t  do  it  in  your  responses  out  of  Church.” 

I withdraw  the  darling,”  said  Pa. 

That’s  a pious  boy  ! Now  again  : — You  were 
always — ” 

You  were  always,”  repeated  Pa. 

A vexatious — ” 

“No  you  weren’t,”  said  Pa. 

“ A vexatious  (do  you  hear,  Sir  ?),  a vexatious,  capri- 
cious, thankless,  troublesome  Animal ; but  I hope  you’ll 
do  better  in  the  time  to  come,  and  I bless  you  and  for- 
give you  !”  Here  she  quite  forgot  that  it  was  Pa’s  turn 
to  make  the  responses,  and  clung  to  his  neck.  Dear 
Pa,  if  you  knew  how  much  I think  this  morning  of  what 
you  told  me  once,  about  the  first  time  of  our  seeing  old 
Mr.  Harmon,  when  I stamped  and  screamed  and  beat  you 
with  my  detestable  little  bonnet ! I feel  as  if  I had  been 
stamping  and  screaming  and  beating  you  with  my  hateful 
little  bonnet  ever  since  I was  born,  darling  !” 

“ Nonsense,  my  love.  And  as  to  your  bonnets,  they 
have  always  been  nice  bonnets,  for  they  have  always  be- 
come you — or  you  have  become  them  ; perhaps  it  was 
that — at  every  age.” 

“ Did  I hurt  you  much,  poor  little  Pa  ?”  asked  Bella, 
laughing  (notwithstanding  her  repentance),  with  fantas- 
tic pleasure  in  the  picture,  “ when  I beat  you  with  my 
bonnet  ?” 

“ No,  my  child.  Wouldn’t  have  hurt  a fly  !” 


OUE  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


55 


Ay,  but  I am  afraid  I sliouldu^t  have  beat  you  at  all 
unless  I bad  meant  to  hurt  you,’’  said  Bella.  “ Did  I 
pinch  your  legs,  Pa  ?” 

“ Not  much,  my  dear  • but  I think  it’s  almost  time 
I—” 

Oh,  yes  !”  cried  Bella.  If  I go  on  chattering, 
you’ll  be  taken  alive.  Fly,  Pa,  fly  I” 

So  they  went  softly  up  the  kitchen  stairs  on  tip-toe, 
and  Bella  with  her  light  hand  softly  removed  the  fasten- 
ings of  the  house-door,  and  Pa,  having  received  a parting 
hug,  made  ofl‘.  When  he  had  gone  a little  way  he  looked 
back.  Upon  which  Bella  set  another  of  those  finger-seals 
upon  the  air,  and  thrust  out  her  little  foot  expressive  of 
the  mark.  Pa,  in  appropriate  action,  expressed  fidelity 
to  the  mark,  and  made  off  as  fast  as  he  could  go. 

Bella  walked  thoughtfully  in  the  garden  for  an  hour 
and  more,  and  then,  returning  to  the  bedroom  where 
Lavvy  the  Irrepressible  still  slumbered,  put  on  a little 
bonnet  of  quiet,  but  on  the  whole  of  sly  appearance, 
which  she  had  yesterday  made.  I am  going  for  a walk, 
Lavvy,”  she  said,  as  she  stooped  down  and  kissed  her. 
The  Irrepressible,  with  a bounce  in  the  bed,  and  a remark 
that  it  wasn’t  time  to  get  up  yet,  relapsed  into  uncon- 
sciousness, if  she  had  come  out  of  it. 

Behold  Bella  tripping  along  the  streets,  the  dearest 
girl  afoot  under  the  summer  sun  ! Behold  Pa  waiting 
for  Bella  behind  a pump,  at  least  three  miles  from  the 
parental  roof-tree.  Behold  Bella  and  Pa  aboard  an  early 
steamboat  bound  for  Greenwich. 

Were  they  expected  at  Greenwich  ? Probably.  At 
least,  Mr.  John  Kokesmith  was  on  the  pier  looking  out, 
about  a couple  of  hours  before  the  coaly  (but  to  him 


56 


CUB  MUTUAL  FBTEND, 


gold-dusty)  little  steamboat  got  her  steam  up  in  London 
Probably.  At  least,  Mr.  John  Rokesmith  seemed  per- 
fectly satisfied  when  he  descried  them  on  board.  Prob- 
ably. At  least  Bella  no  sooner  stepped  ashore  than  she 
took  Mr.  John  RokesmitVs  arm,  without  evincing  sur- 
prise, and  the  two  walked  away  together  with  an  ethereal 
air  of  happiness  which,  as  it  were,  wafted  up  from  the 
earth  and  drevr  after  them  a grufi'  and  glum  old  pensioner 
to  see  it  out.  Two  wooden  legs  had  this  gruff  and  glum 
old  pensioner,  and,  a minute  before  Bella  ^teppad  out  of 
the  boat,  and  drew  that  confiding  little  arm  of  hers 
through  Rokesmith’s,  he  had  had  no  object  in  life  but 
tobacco,  and  not  enough  of  that.  Stranded  was  Gruff 
and  Ghim  in  a harbor  of  everlasting  mud,  when  all  in  an 
instant  Bella  floated  him,  and  away  he  went. 

Say,  cherubic  parent  taking  the  lead,  in  what  direction 
do  we  steer  first  ? Yv^ith  some  such  inquiry  in  his  thoughts, 
Gruff  and  Glum,  stricken  by  so  sudden  an  interest  that 
he  perked  his  neck  and  looked  over  the  intervening  peo- 
ple, as  if  he  were  trying  to  stand  on  tip-toe  with  his  two 
wooden  legs,  took  an  observation  of  R.  W.  There  was 
no  “ first  in  the  case,  Gruff  and  Glum  made  out ; the 
cherubic  parent  was  bearing  down  and  crowding  on  direct 
for  Greenvrich  church,  to  see  his  relations. 

Por  Gruff  and  Glum,  though  most  events  acted  on  him 
simply  as  tobacco-stoppers,  pressing  down  and  condensing 
the  quids  within  him,  might  be  imagined  to  trace  a family 
resemblance  between  the  cherubs  in  the  church  architec- 
ture and  the  cherub  in  the  white  waistcoat.  Some  re- 
membrance of  old  Yalentines,  wherein  a cherub,  less  ap- 
propriately attired  for  a proverbially  uncertain  climate, 
had  been  seen  conducting  lovers  to  the  altar,  might  have 


OUR  ]MUTUAL  FRTEHD, 


57 


been  fancied  to  inflame  the  ardor  of  his  timber  toes.  Be 
it  as  it  might,  he  gave  his  moorings  the  slip,  and  followed 
in  chase. 

The  cherub  went  before,  all  beaming  smiles.  Bella  and 
John  Rokesmith  followed  ; Gruff  and  Glum  stuck  to  them 
like  wax.  For  years  the  wings  of  his  mind  had  gone  to 
look  after  the  legs  of  his  body  ; but  Bella  had  brought 
them  back  for  him  per  steamer,  and  they  were  spread  again. 

He  was  a slow  sailer  on  a wind  of  happiness,  but  he 
took  a cross-cut  for  the  rendezvous,  and  pegged  away  as 
if  he  were  scoring  furiously  at  cribbage.  When  the 
shadow  of  the  church-porch  swallowed  them  up,  victorious 
Gruff  and  Glum  likewise  presented  himself  to  be  swallow- 
ed up.  And  by  this  time  the  cherubic  parent  was  so 
fearful  of  surprise  that,  but  for  the  two  wooden  legs  on 
which  Gruff’  and  Glum  was  reassuringly  mounted,  his  con- 
science might  have  introduced,  in  the  person  of  that  pen- 
sioner, his  own  stately  lady  disguised,  arrived  at  Green- 
wich in  a car  and  griffins,  like  the  spiteful  Fairy  ?,t  the 
christenings  of  the  Princesses,  to  do  something  dreadful 
to  the  marriage  service.  And  truly  he  had  a momentary 
reason  to  be  pale  of  face,  and  to  whisper  to  Bella.  You 
donT  think  that  can  be  your  Ma  ; do  you,  my  dear  on 
account  of  a mysterious  rustling  and  a stealthy  movement 
somewhere  in  the  remote  neighborhood  of  the  organ, 
though  it  was  gone  directly,  and  was  heard  no  more. 
Albiet  it  was  heard  of  afterward,  as  will  afterward  be 
read  in  this  veracious  register  of  marriage. 

Who  taketh?  I,  John,  and  so  do  I,  Bella.  Who 
giveth  ? I,  R.  W.  Forasmuch,  Gruff  and  Glum,  as  John 
and  Bella  have  consented  together  in  lioly  wedlock,  you 
may  (in  short)  consider  it  done,  and  withdraw  your  two 

a* 


58 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


wooden  legs  from  this  temple.  To  the  foregoing  purport, 
the  Minister  speaking,  as  directed  by  the  Rubric,  to  the 
People,  selectly  represented  in  the  present  instance  by  G. 
and  G.  above  mentioned. 

And  now,  the  church-porch  having  swallowed  up  Bella 
Wilfer  for  ever  and  ever,  had  it  not  in  its  power  to  relin- 
quish that  young  woman,  but  slid  into  the  happy  sun- 
light, Mrs.  John  Rokesmith  instead.  And  long  on  the 
bright  steps. stood  Gruff  and  Glum,  looking  after  the 
pretty  bride,  with  a narcotic  consciousness  of  having 
dreamed  a dream. 

After  which,  Bella  took  out  from  her  pocket  a little 
letter,  and  read  it  aloud  to  Pa  and  John  ; this  being  a 
true  copy  of  the  same  : 

Dearest  Ma,— I hope  you  won^t  be  angry,  but  I am 
most  happily  married  to  Mr.  John  Rokesmith,  who  loves 
me  better  than  I can  ever  deserve,  except  by  loving  him 
with  all  my  heart.  I thought  it  best  not  to  mention  it 
before  hand,  in  case  it  should  cause  any  little  difference 
at  home.  Please  tell  darling  Pa.  With  love  to  Lavvy, 
Ever  dearest  Ma, 

Your  affectionate  daughter, 

Bella 

(P.  S. — Rokesmith 

Then  John  Rokesmith  put  the  queen’s  countenance 
on  the  letter — when  had  Her  Gracious  Majesty  looked 
so  benign  as  on  that  blessed  morning  ! — and  then 
Bella  popped  it  into  the  post-office,  and  said,  merrily, 
‘‘  Now,  dearest  Pa,  you  are  safe,  and  will  never  be 
talien  alive  !” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


59 


Pa  was,  ,at  first,  in  the  stirred  depths  of  his  con- 
science, so  far  from  sure  of  being  safe  yet,  that  he 
made  out  majestic  matrons  lurking  in  ambush  among 
the  harmless  trees  of  Greenwich  Park,  and  seemed  to 
see  a stately  countenance  tied  up  in  a well-known 
pocket-handkerchief  glooming  down  at  him  from  a 
window  of  the  Observatory,  where  the  Familiars  of 
the  Astronomer  Koyal  nightly  outwatch  the  winking 
stars.  But  the  minutes  passing  on  and  no  Mrs.  Wil- 
fer  in  the  flesh  appearing,  he  became  more  confident, 
and  so  repaired  with  good  heart  and  appetite  to  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  John  Rokesmith’s  cottage  on  Blackheath, 
where  breakfast  was  readjL 

A modest  little  cottage  but  a bright  and  a fresh,  and 
on  the  snowy  table-cloth  the  prettiest  of  little  break- 
fasts, In  waiting,  too,  like  an  attendant  summer 
breeze,  a fluttering  young  damsel,  all  pink  and  rib- 
bons, blushing  as  if  she  had  been  married  instead  of 
Bella,  and  }et  asserting  the  triumph  of  her  sex  over 
both  John  and  Pa  in  an  exulting  and  exalted  flurry  : 
as  who  should  say,  This  is  what  you  must  all  come 
to,  gentlemen,  when  we  choose  to  bring  you  to  book.” 
This  same  young  damsel  was  Beliaks  serving-maid, 
and  unto  her  did  deliver  a bunch  of  keys,  commanding 
treasures  in  the  way  of  dry-saltery,  groceries,  jams  and 
pickles,  the  investigation  of  wdiich  made  pastime  after 
breakfast,  when  Bella  declared  that Pa  must  taste 
ever}^  thing,  John  dear,  or  it  v/ill  never  be  lucky,”  and 
when  Pa  had  all  sorts  of  things  poked  into  his  mouth, 
and  didn’t  quite  know  what  to  do  with  them  when 
they  were  put  there. 

Then  they,  all  three^  out  for  a charming  ride,  and 


60 


ora  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


for  a cliarming  stroll  among  heath  in  bloom,  and  there 
behold  the  identical  Gruff  and  Glum,  with  his  wooden 
legs  horizontal!}’’  disposed  before  him,  apparently 
sitting  meditating  on  the  vicissitudes  of  life  1 To 
wliorn  said  Bella,  in  her  light-hearted  surprise  : Oh  ! 

How  do  3^11  do  again  ? What  a dear  old  pensioner 
you  are  !”  To  which  Gruff  and  Glum  responded  that 
he  see  her  married  this  morning,  my  Beauty,  and  that 
if  it  warnT  a liberty  he  wished  her  ji  and  the  fairest 
of  fair  wind  and  weather:  further,  in  a general  way 
requesting  to  know  what  cheer?  and  scrambling  up 
on  his  two  wooden  legs  to  salute,  bat  in  hand,  ship- 
shape, with  the  gallantry  of  a man-of-warsman  and  a 
heart  of  oak. 

It  w’as  a pleasant  sight,  in  the  midst  of  the  golden 
bloom,  to  see  this  salt  old  Gruff  and  Glum  waving  his 
shovel  hat  at  Bella,  while  his  thin  white  hair  flowed 
free,  as  if  she  had  once  more  launched  him  into 
blue  water  again.  You  are  a charming  old  pen- 

sioner,’' said  Bella,  and  I am  so  happy  that  I wish  I 
could  make  3mu  happy  too.’’  Answered  Gruff  and 
Glum,  “Give  me  leave  to  kiss  your  hand,  my  Lovely, 
and  it’s  done  !”  So  it  was  done  to  the  general  con- 
tentment; and  if  Gruff  and  Glum  didn’t  in  the  course 
of  the  afternoon  splice  the  main  brace,  it  was  not  for 
want  of  the  means  of  inflicting  that  outrage  on  the 
feelings  of  the  Infant  Bands  of  Hope. 

But  the  marriage  dinner  was  the  crowning  success, 
for  what  had  bride  and  bridegroom  plotted  to  do  but 
to  have  and  to  hold  that  dinner  in  the  very  room  of 
the  very  hotel  where  Pa  and  the  level}’  woman  had 
once  dined  together  I Bella  sat  between  Pa  and  John, 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


61 


and  divided  , her  attentions  pretty  cqnally,  but  felt  it 
necessary  (in  the  waiter’s  absence  before  dinner)  to 
remind  Pa  that  she  was  his  lovely  woman  no  longer. 

I ara  well  aware  of  it,  dear.’^  returned  the 
cherub,  “ and  I resign  you  willingly.’’ 

“ Willingly,  Sir  ? You  ought  to  be  broken- 
lie  ar  ted.” 

‘‘  So  I should  be,  my  dear,  if  I thought  that  I was 
going  to  lose  you.” 

“ But  you  know  you  are  not ; don’t  you,  dear  Pa  ? 
You  know  that  you  liave  only  made  a new  relation 
who  will  be  as  fond  of  you  and  as  thankful  to  3^011 — 
for  my  sake  and  y'Our  own  sake  both-^ — as  I am  ; 
don’t  3^011,  dear  little  Pa  ? Look  here,  Pa  !”  Bella 
put  her  finger  on  her  own  lip,  and  then  on  Pa’s,  and 
then  on  her  own  lip  again,  and  then  on  her  husband’s. 
^^Now,  we  are  a partnership  of  three,  dear  Pa.” 

The  appearance  of  dinner  here  cut  Bella  short  in  one 
of  her  disappearances  : the  more  effectually,  because  it 
was  put  on  under  the  auspices  of  a solemn  gentleman  in 
black  clothes  and  a white  cravat,  who  looked  much  more 
like  a clergyman  than  the  clergyman,  and  seemed  to  have 
mounted  a great  deal  higher  in  the  church  : not  to  say 
scaled  the  steeple.  This  dignitary,  conferring  in  secrecy 
with  John  Rokesmith  on  the  subject  of  punch  and  wines, 
bent  his  head  as  though  stooping  to  the  Papistical  prac- 
tice of  receiving  auricular  confession.  Likewise,  on  John’s 
offering  a suggestion  which  didn’t  meet  his  views,  his 
face  became  overcast  and  reproachful,  as  enjoining 
penance. 

What  a dinner  I Specimens  of  all  the  fishes  that 
swim  in  the  sea  surely  had  swum  their  way  to  it,  and  if 


62 


OVJU  MUTUAL  FEtENB. 


samples  of  the  fishes  of  divers  colors  that  made  a speech 
in  the  Arabian  Nights  (quite  a ministerial  explanation 
ill  respect  of  cloudiness),  and  then  jumped  out  of  the 
frying  pan,  were  not  to  be  recognized,  it  was  only  be- 
cause they  had  all  become  of  one  hue  by  being  cooked  in 
batter  among  the  white-bait.  And  the  dishes  being  sea- 
soned with  Bliss — an  article  which  they  are  sometimes 
out  of,  at  Greenwich— were  of  perfect  flavor,  and  the 
golden  drinks  had  been  bottled  in  the  golden  age  and 
hoarding  up  their  sparkles  ever  since. 

The  best  of  it  was  that  Bella  and  John  and  the 
cherub  had  made  a covenant  that  they  would  not  re- 
veal to  mortal  eyes  any  appearance  whatever  of  being 
a wedding  party.  Now,  the  supervising  dignitary^ 
the  Archbishop  of  Greenwich,  knew  this  as  well  as  if 
he  had  performed  the  nuptial  ceremony.  And  the 
loftiness  with  ’which  his  Grace  entered  into  their  con- 
fidence without  being  invited,  and  insisted  on  a show 
of  keeping  the  waiters  out  of  it,  was  the  crowning 
glory  of  the  entertainment. 

There  was  an  innocent  young  waiter  of  a slender 
form  and  wdth  weakish  legs,  as  yet  unversed  in  the 
wiles  of  waiterhood,  and  but  too  evidently  of  a ro- 
mantic temperament,  and  deeply  (it  w’ere  not  too  much 
to  add  hopelessly)  in  love  with  some  young  female 
not  aw^are  of  his  merit.  This  guileless  youth,  descry- 
ing the  position  of  affairs,  which  even  his  innocence 
could  not  mistake,  limited  his  waiting  to  languishing 
admiringly  against  the  sideboard  when  Bella  didn’t 
want  any  thing,  and  swooping  at  her  when  she  did. 
Him,  his  Grace  the  Archbishop,  perpetually  obstruct- 
ed, cutting  him  out  with  his  elbow  in  the  moment  of 


OVU  OTTUAL  FRIEND. 


63 


success,  dispatching  him  in  degrading  quest  of  melted 
butter,  and,  ^vben  by  any  chance  he  got  hold  of  any 
dish  worth  having,  bereaving  him  of  it,  and  ordering 
him  to  stand  back. 

“ Pray  excuse  him,  madam,’’  said  the  Archbishop, 
in  a low  stately  voice;  he  is  a very  young  man  on 
liking,  and  we  don^t  like  him.” 

This  induced  John  Eokesmith  to  observe— by  ^vay 
of  making  the  thing  more  natural — ‘‘  Bella,  my  love, 
this  is  so  much  more  successful  than  any  of  our  past 
anniversaries,  that  I think  we  must  keep  our  future 
anniversaries  here.” 

Whereunto  Bella  replied,  with  probably  the  least 
successful  attempt  at  looking  matronly  that  ever  was 
seen  : “Indeed,  I think  so,  John,  dear.” 

Here  the 'Archbishop  of  Greenwich  coughed  a stately 
cough  to  attract  the  attention  of  three  of  his  ministers 
present,  and  staring  at  them,  seemed  to  say  : “ I call 
upon  you  by  your  fealty  to  believe  this  !” 

Y/ith  his  own  hands  he  afterward  put  on  the  des- 
sert, as  remarking  to  the  three  guests,  “ The  period 
has  now  arrived  at  which  we  can  dispense  with  the 
assistance  of  those  fellows  who  are  not  in  our  confi- 
dence,” and  would  have  retired  with  complete  dignity 
but  for  a daring  action  issuing  from  the  misguided 
brain  of  the  young  man  on  liking.  He  finding,  by  ill- 
fortune,  a piece  of  orange  flower  somewhere  in  the 
lobbies,  now  approached  undetected  with  the  same  in 
a finger-glass,  and  placed  it  on  Bella’s  right  hand. 
The  Archbishop  instantly  ejected  and  excommunica- 
ted him  ; but  the  thing  was  done. 

“ I trust,  madam,”  said  his  Grace,  returning  alone, 


64  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

that  you  will  have  the  kindness  to  overlook  it,  in 
consideration  of  its  bein^  the  act  of  a ver}"  young  man 
who  is  merely  here,  on  liking,  and  who  will  never  an- 
swer.’^ 

With  that,  he  solemnly  bowed  and  retired,  and  they 
all  burst  into  laughter,  long  and  merry.  “ Disguise  is 
of  no  use,’^  said  Bella  ; ‘^they  all  find  me  out;  I think 
it  must  be,  Pa  and  John  dear,  because  I look  so 
happy 

Her  husband  feeling  it  necessary  at  this  point  to 
demand  one  of  those  mysterious  disappearances  on 
Bella’s  part,  she  dutifully  obeyed  ; saying  in  a softened 
voice  from  her  place  of  concealment : 

You  remember  how  we  talked  about  the  ships  that 
day.  Pa 

Yes,  my  dear*”  # 

Isn’t  it  .strange,  now,  to  think  that  there  was  no 
John  in  all  the  ships.  Pa  ?” 

Not  at  all,  my  dear.” 

Oh,  Pa  ! Not  at  all  ?” 

No,  my  dear.  How  can  we  tell  what  coming 
people  are  aboard  the  ships  that  may  be  sailing  to  us 
now  from  the  unknown  seas  !” 

Bella  remaining  invisible  and  silent,  her  father  re- 
mained at  his  dessert  and  wine,  until  he  remembered 
it  was  time  for  him  to  get  home  to  Holloway. 

Though  I positively  cannot  tear  myself  awa}%”  he 
cherubically  added,  — it  would  be  a sin — without 

drinking  to  many,  many  happy  returns  of  this  most 
happy  day.” 

Hear  1 ten  thousand  times  !”  cried  John.  “ I fill 
my  glass  and  my  precious  wife’s.” 


OUE  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


65 


“ Gentlemen/’  said  tLe  cherub,  in  audibly  addressing, 
in  his  Anglo-Saxon  tendency,  to  throw  his  feelings  into 
the  form  of  a speech,  the  boys  down  below,  who  were 
bidding  against  each  other  to  put  their  heads  in  the  mud 
for  sixpence  : “ Gentlemen — and  Bella  and  John — you 

will  readily  suppose  that  it  is  not  my  intention  to  trouble 
you  wdth  many  observations  on  the  present  occasion* 
You  wdll  also  at  once  infer  the  nature  and  even  the  terms 
of  the  toast  I am  about  to  propose  on  the  present  occa- 
sion. Gentlemen — and  Bella  and  John — the  present  oc- 
casion is  an  occasion  fraught  with  feelings  that  I cannot 
trust  myself  to  express.  But  gentlemen — and  Bella  and 
John — for  the  part  I have  had  in  it,  for  the  confidence 
you  have  placed  in  me,  and  for  the  affectionate  good  na- 
ture and  kindness  wdth  wdiich  you  have  determined  not  to 
find  me  in  the  way,  when  I am  well  aware  that  I cannot 
be  othenvise  than  in  it  more  or  less,  I do  most  heartily 
thank  you.  Gentlemen — and  Bella  and  John — my  love 
to  you,  and  may  wm  meet,  as  on  the  present  occasion,  on 
many  future  occasions  ; that  is  to  say  gentlemq^ — and 
Bella  and  John — on  many  happy  returns  of  the  present 
happy  occasion.” 

Having  thus  concluded  his  address,  the  amiable  cherub 
embraced  his  daughter,  and  took  his  flight  to  the  steam- 
boat which  was  to  convey  him  to  London,  and  was  then 
lying  at  the  floating  pier,  doing  its  best  to  bump  the 
same  to  bits.  But  the  ha])py  couple  were  not  going  to 
part  wdth  him  in  that  way,  and  before  he  had  been  on 
board  two  minutes  there  they  were,  looking  down  at 
him  from  the  w^harf  above. 

Pa,  dear  !”  cried  Bella,  beckoning  him  with  her  para- 
sol to  ap}>roach  the  side,  and  bending  gracefully  to  whisper. 


66 


OUK  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


Yes,  my  darling.^^ 

Did  I beat  you  much  with  that  horrid  little  bonnet, 
Pa 

**  Nothing  to  speak  of,  my  dear” 

Did  I pinch  your  legs,  Pa 
Only  nicely,  my  pet.^ 

You  are  sure  you  quite  forgive  me,  Pa  ? Please,  Pa, 
please,  forgive  me  quite  Half  laughing  at  him,  and 
half  crying  to  him,  Bella  besought  him  in  the  prettiest 
manner  ; in  a manner  so  engaging  and  so  playful  and  so 
natural,  that  her  cherubic  parent  made  a coaxing  face 
as  if  she  had  never  grown  up,  and  said,  What  a silly 
little  Mouse  it  is 

^‘But  yo\i  do  forgive  me  that  and  everything  else; 
doiPt  yon.  Pa  V’ 

Yes,  my  dearestP^ 

And  you  don’t  feel  solitary  or  neglected,  going  away 
by  yourself ; do  you  Pa  ?” 

“ Lord  bless  you  ! No,  my  Life  !” 

Good-by,  dearest  Pa  1 Good-by  I” 

Good-by,  my  darling  ! Take  her  away,  my  dear 
John.  Take  her  home  I” 

So,  she  leaning  on  her  husband’s  arm,  they  turned 
homeward  by  a rosy  path  whicli  the  gracious  sun  struck 
out  for  them  in  its  setting.  And  0 there  are  days  in 
this  life  worth  life  and  worth  death.  And  0 what  a 
bright  old  song  it  is  that  O ’tis  love,  ’tis  love,  ’tis  love, 
that  makes  the  world  go  round  ! 


OUK  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


67 


CHAPTER  Y. 

CONCERNING  THE  MENDICANTS  BRIDE. 

The  impressive  gloom  with  which  Mrs.  Wilfer  re- 
ceived her  husband  on  his  return  from  the  wedding 
knocked  so  hard  at  the  door  of  the  cherubic  conscience, 
and  likewise  so  impaired  the  firmness  of  the  cherubic 
legs,  that  the  culpriTs  tottering  condition  of  mind  and 
body  might  have  aroused  suspicion  in  less  occupied 
persons  than  the  grimly  heroic  lady,  Miss  Lavinia,  and 
that  esteemed  friend  of  the  famil}^  Mr.  George  Samp- 
son. But  the  attention  of  all  three  being  fully  pos- 
sessed by  the  main  fact  of  the  marriage,  they  had 
happily  none  to  bestow  on  the  guilty  conspirator  ; to 
which  fortunate  circumstance  he  owed  the  escape  for 
which  he  was  in  nowise  indebted  to  himself. 

You  do  not,  R.  W.,’^  said  Mrs.  Wilfer  from  her 
stately  corner,  inquire  for  your  daughter  Bella.’^ 

To  be  sure,  my  dear,^^  he  returned,  with  a most 
flagrant  assumption  of  unconsciousness,  I did  omit 
it.  How — or  perhaps  I should  rather  say  where — is 
Bella  ?’^ 

“ Not  here,^^  Mrs.  Wilfer  proclaimed,  with  folded 
arms. 

The  cherub  faintly  muttered  something  to  the  abor- 
tive effect  of  “ Oh,  indeed,  ray  dear 

Not  here,”  repeated  Mrs.  Wilfer,  in  a stern  sono- 


68 


OUS  MUTUAL  FRIEKD. 


rous  voice.  In  a word,  R.  W.,  you  have  no  daughter 
Bella/’ 

No  daughter  Bdla,  rny  dear 

No.  Your  daughter  Bella,”  said  Mrs.  Wilfer,  with 
the  lofty  air  of  never  having  had  the  least  copartner- 
ship in  that  young  lady:  of  whom  she  now  made  re- 
proachful mention  as  an  article  of  luxury  which  her 
husband  had  set  up  entirely  on  his  own  account,  and 
in  direct  opposition  to  her  advice  : — your  daughter 

Bella  has  bestowed  herself  upon  a Mendicant.” 

Good  gracious,  my  dear  !” 

Show  your  father  his  daughter  Bella’s  letter, 
Lavinia,”  said  Mrs.  Wilfer,  in  her  monotonous  Act  of 
Parliament  tone,  and  waving  her  hand.  I think 
your  father  will  admit  it  to  be  documentary  proof  of 
what  I tell  him.  I believe  your  father  is  acquainted 
with  his  daughter  Bella’s  writing.  But  I do  not 
know.  He  may  tell  you  he  is  not.  Nothing  wdll  sur- 
prise me.” 

Posted  at  Greenwich,  and  dated  this  morning,” 
said  the  Irrepressible,  flouncing  at  her  father  in  hand- 
ing him  the  evidence.  Hopes  Ma  won’t  be  angry, 
but  is  happily  married  to  Mr.  John  Rokesmith,  and 
didn’t  mention  it  before  hand  to  avoid  words,  and 
please  tell  darling  you,  and  love  to  me,  and  I should 
like  to  know  what  you’d  have  said  if  any  other  unmar- 
ried member  of  the  family  had  done  it !” 

He  read  the  letter,  and  faintly  exclaimed,  Dear 
me  !” 

“ You  may  well  say  Dear  me  !”  rejoined  Mrs.  Wilfer, 
in  a deep  tone.  Upon  which  encouragement  he  said 
it  again,  though  scarcely  with  the  success  he  had  ex- 


OtTR  MUTOAL  F:^TEKD. 


69 


pected  ; for  the  scornful  lady  then  remarked,  with 
extreme  bitterness  : You  said  that  before.’^ 

“ It^s  very  surprising.  But  I suppose,  my  dear/’ 
hinted  the  cherub,  as  he  folded  the  letter  after  a dis* 
concerting  silence,  that  we  must  make  the  best  of 
it  ? Would  you  object  to  my  pointing  out,  my  dear, 
that  Mr.  John  Rokesmith  is  not  (so  far  as  I am  ac- 
quainted with  him),  strictly  speaking,  a Mendi- 
cant 

“ Indeed  returned  Mrs.  Wilfer,  with  an  awful  air 
of  politeness.  Truly  so  ? I was  not  aware  that 
^ Mr.  John  Rokesmith  was  a gentleman  of  landed  pro- 
perty. But  I am  much  relieved  to  hear  it.” 

I doubt  if  you  have  heard  it,  my  dear,”  the  cherub 
submitted  with  hesitation. 

**  Thank  you,”  said  Mrs.  Wilfer.  I make  false 
statements,  it  appears  ? So  be  it.  If  my  daughter 
flies  in  my  face,  surely  my  husband  may.  The  one 
thing  is  not  more  unnatural  than  the  other.  There 
seems  a fitness  in  the  arrangement.  By  all  means  !” 
Assuming,  with  a shiver  of  resignation,  a deadly 
cheerfulness. 

But  here  the  Irrepressible  skirmished  into  the  com 
flict,  dragging  the  reluctant  form  of  Mr.  Sampson 
after  her. 

Ma,”  interposed  the  young  lady,  “ I must  say  I 
think  it  would  be  much  better  if  you  would  keep  to  the 
point,  and  not  hold  forth  about  people’s  flying  into 
people’s  faces,  which  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
impossible  nonsense.” 

''  How  1”  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wilfer,  knitting  her  dark 
brows. 


ro 


OUR  MUTUAL  URlEi^U- 


Just  im-possible  nonsense,  Ma,’’  returned  Lavty^ 
and  George  Sampson  knows  it  is,  as  well  as  I do/’ 
Mrs.  Wilfer  suddenly  becoming  petrified,  fixed  her 
indignant  eyes  upon  the  wretched  George  wdio,  di- 
vided between  the  support  due  from  him  to  his  love^ 
and  the  support  due  from  him  to  his  love’s  mamma, 
supported  nobody,  not  even  himself. 

The  true  point  is,”  pursued  Lavinia,  ‘‘that  Bella 
has  behaved  in  a most  unsisterly  way  to  me,  and  might 
have  severely  compromised  me  with  George  and  with 
George’s  family,  by  making  off  and  getting  married 
in  this  very  low  and  disreputable  manner— with  some 
pew-opener  or  other,  I suppose,  for  a bridemaid — when 
she  ought  to  have  confided  in  me,  and  ought  to  have 
said,  ‘ If,  Lavvy,  you  consider  it  due  to  your  engage- 
ment with  George  that  you  should  countenance  the 
occasion  by  being  present,  then,  Lavvy,  I beg  you  to 
be  present,  keeping  my  secret  from  Ma  and  Pa.’  As 
of  course  1 should  have  done.” 

As  of  course  you  would  have  done  ? Ingrate  I” 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Wilfei\  Viper  !” 

I say  ! You  know,  ma’am.  Upon  my  honor  you 
mustn’t,”  Mr.  Sampson  remonstrated,  shaking  his  head 
seriously.  “ With  the  highest  respect  for  you,  ma’am, 
upon  my  life  you  mustn’t.  No,  really,  you  know. 
When  a man  with  the  feelings  of  a gentleman  finds 
himself  engaged  to  a young  lady,  and  it  comes  (even 
on  the  part  of  a member  of  the  family)  to  vipers,  you 
know  ! — I wmuld  merely  put  it  to  your  own  good  feel- 
ing,  you  know,”  said  Mr.  Sampson,  in  rather  lame 
conclusion. 

Mrs.  Wilfer’s  baleful  stare  at  the  young  gentleman 


OtJR  MtTTtTAL  mEND. 


71 


in  acknowledgment  of  his  obliging  interference  was 
of  such  a nature  that  Miss  Lavinia  burst  into  tears, 
and  caught  him  round  the  neck  for  his  protection. 

My  own  unnatural  mother/^  screamed  the  young 
lady,  wants  to  annihilate  George  ! But  you  sha^n’t 
be  annilUlated,  George.  Pll  die  first  !’^ 

Mr.  Sampson^in  the  arms  of  his  mistress,  still  strug- 
gled to  shake  his  head  at  Mrs.  Wilfer,  and  to  remark  5 
With  every  sentiment  of  respect  for  you,  you 
know,  ina^am — vipers  really  doesn’t  do  you  credit.” 

You  shall  not  be  annihilated,  George  I”  cried  Miss 
Lavinia.  Ma  shall  destroy  me  first,  and  then  she’ll 
be  contented.  Oh,  oh,  oh  1 Have  I lured  George 
from  his  happy  home  to  expose  him  to  this  I George, 
dear,  bo  free  I Leave  me,  ever  dearest  George,  to  Ma 
and  to  my  fate.  Give  my  love  to  your  aunt,  George 
dear,  and  implore  her  not  to  curse  the  viper  that  has 
crossed  your  path  and  blighted  your  existence.  Oh, 
oh,  oh  I”  The  young  lady  who,  hysterically  speaking, 
was  only  just  come  of  age,  and  had  never  gone  off 
yet,  here  Yell  into  a highly  creditable  crisis,  which,  re- 
garded as  a first  performance,  was  very  successful  } 
Mr.  Sampson,  bending  over  the  body  meanwhile,  in  a 
state  of  distraction  which  induced  him  to  address  Mrs. 
Wilfer  in  the  inconsistent  expressions  ; “ Demon — • 
with  the  highest  respect  for  you  — behold  your 
work  !” 

The  cherub  stood  helplessly  rubbing  his  chin  and  * 
looking  on,  but  on  the  whole  was  inclined  to  welcome 
this  diversion  as  one  in  which,  by  reason  of  the  absor- 
bent properties  of  hysterics,  the  previous  question 
would  boGome  .absorbed.  And  so,  indeed,  it  proved, 


72 


OVU  MUTUAL  FRIEND.*" 


for  the  Irrepressible  gradually  coming  to  herself,  and 
asking  with  wild  emotion,  George  dear,  are  you 
safe  and  further,' ""  George  love,  what  has  happen- 
ed ? Where  is  Ma?’^  Mr.  Sampson,  with  words  of 
comfort,  raised  her  prostrate  form,  and  handed 
her  to  Mrs.  Wilfer  as  if  the  young  lady  wo#e  some- 
thing in  the  nature  of  refreshments.  Mrs.  Wilfer  with 
dignity  partaking  of  the  refreshments,  by  kissing  her 
once  on  the  brow  (as  if  accepting  an  oyster),  Miss 
Lavvy,  tottering,  returned  to  the  protection  of  Mi\ 
Sampson  ; to  whom  she  said,  **  George  dear,  I am 
afraid  I have  been  foolish  ; but  I am  still  a little  weak 
and  giddy  ; don’t  let  go  my  hand,  George  !”  And 
wdiorn  she  afterward  greatly  agitated  at  intervals,  byr 
giving  utterance,  when  least  expected,  to  a sound  be- 
tween a sob  and  a bottle  of  soda-water,  that  seemed 
to  rend  the  bosom  of  her  frock. 

Among  the  most  remarkable  elFects  of  this  crisis 
may  be  mentioned  its  having,  when  peace  was  re- 
stored, an  inexplicable  moral  influence  of  an  elevating 
kind,  on  Miss  Lavinia,  Mrs.  Wilfer,  and  Mr.  George 
Sampson,  from  which  R.  W.  was  altogether  excluded, 
as  an  outsider  and  non-sympathizer.  Miss  Lavinia 
assumed  a modest  air  of  having  distinguished  herself ; 
Mrs.  W’^ilfer  a serene  air  of  forgiveness  and  resigna- 
tion ; Mr.  Sampson,  an  air  of  having  been  improved 
and  chastened.  The  influence  pervaded  the  spirit  in 
which  they  returned  to  the  previous  question. 

""  George  dear,”  said  Lavvy,  with  a melancholy 
smile,  “ after  v/hat  has  passed,  I am  sure  Ma  will  teli 
Pa  that  he  may  tell  Bella  we  shall  all  be  glad  to  sec 
her  and  her  husband.” 


OVR  l^rUTTAL  FRIEND. 


73 


Mr.  Sampson  said  he  was  sure  of  it  too ; murmuring 
how  eminently  he  respected  Mrs.  Wilfer,  and  ever 
must,  and  ever  would.  Never  more  eminently,  ho 
added,  than  after  what  had  past. 

^‘Far  be  it  from  me,”  said  Mrs.  Wilfer,  making 
deep  proclamation  from  her  corner,  to  run  counter 
to  the  feelings  of  a child  of  mine,  and  of  a Youth,” 
Mr.  Sampson  hardly  seemed  to  like  that  word,  vvdio 
is  the  object  of  her  maiden  preference.  I may  feel- 
nay,  know — that  I have  been  deluded  and  deceived. 
I ma}^  feel— nay,  know — that  I have  been  set  aside 
and  passed  over.  I may  feel — nay,  know — that  after 
having  so  far  overcome  my  repugnance  toward  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Boffin  as  to  receive  them  under  this  roof,  and 
to  consent  to  your  daughter  Beliaks,”  here  turning  to 
her  husband,  “ residing  under  theirs,  it  were  well  if 
your  daughter  Bella,”  again  turning  to  her  husband, 

had  profited  in  a worldly  point  of  view  by  a connec- 
tion so  distasteful,  so  disreputable.  I may  feel — nay 
know — that  in  uniting  herself  to  Mr.  Kokesmith  she 
has  united  herself  to  one  who  is,  in  spite  of  shallow 
sophistry,  a Mendicant.  And  I may  feel  well  assured 
that  your  daughter  Bella,”  again  turning  to  her  hus- 
band, “ does  not  exalt  her  family  by  becoming  a Men- 
dicant’s bride.  But  I suppress  what  I feel,  and  say 
nothing  of  it.” 

^Ir.  Sampson  murmured  that  this  was  the  sort  of  thing 
you  might  expect  from  one  who  had  ever  in  her  own 
family  been  an  example  and  never  an  outrage.  And  ever 
more  so  (^Mr.  Sampson  added,  with  some  degree  of  ob- 
scurity), and  never  more  so,  than  in  and  through  what 
had  passed.  Ee  must  take  the  liberty  of  adding,  that 
4 


74 


OIJK  MUTUAL  FKTEKD. 


what  was  true  of  the  mother  was  true  of  the  youngest 
daughter,  and  that  he  could  never  forget  the  touching 
feelings  that  the  conduct  of  both  had  awakened  within 
him.  Tn  conclusion,  he  did  hope  that  there  wasn’t  a man 
with  a beating  heart  who  was  capable  of  something  that 
remained  un described,  in  consequence  of  Miss  Lavinia’s 
stopping  him  as  he  reeled  in  his  speech. 

“ Therefore,  R.  W.,”  said  Mrs.  Wilfer,  resuming  her 
discourse  and  turning  to  her  lord  again,  ‘‘  let  your 
daughter  Bella  come  when  she  will,  and  she  will  be 
received.  So/’  after  a short  pause,  and  an  air  of  hav- 
ing' taken  medicine  in  it,  ‘‘so  will  her  husband.” 

And  I beg,  Pa,”  said  Lavinia,  “ that  you  will  not 
tell  Bella  what  I have  undergone.  It  can  do  no  good, 
and  it  might  cause  her  to  reproach  herself.” 

“ My  dearest  girl,”  urged  Mr.  Sampson,  “ she  ought 
to  know  it.” 

“ No,  George,”  said  Lavinia,  in  a tone  of  resolute 
self-denial.  “ No,  dearest  George,  let  it  be  buried  in 
oblivion.” 

Mr.  Sampson  considered  that  “ too  noble.” 

“Nothing  is  too  noble,  dearest  George,”  returned 
Lavinia.  “And  Pa,  I hope  you  will  be  careful  not  to 
refer  before  Bella,  if  you  can  help  it,  to  my  engage- 
ment to  George.  It  might  seem  like  reminding  her  of 
her  having  cast  herself  aw^ay.  And  I hope.  Pa,  that 
you  will  think  it  equally  right  to  avoid  mentioning 
George’s  rising  prospects,  when  Bello,  is  present.  It 
might  seem  like  taunting  her  with  her  owm  poor  for- 
tunes. Let  me  ever  remember  that  I am  her  younger 
sister,  and  ever  spare  her  painful  contrasts,  which 
could  not  but  wound  her  sharply/’ 


Otm  ifUttfAL  EEIEND. 


75 


Mr.  Sampson  expressed  his  belief  that  such  was  the 
demeanor  of  Angels^  Miss  Lavyy  replied  with  solem* 
iiity,  No,  dearest  George,  I am  but  too  well  aware 
that  I am  merely  human.’^ 

Mrs.  Wilfer,  for  her  part,  still  further  improved  the 
occasion  by  sitting  with  her  eyes  fastened  on  her  hus- 
band, like  two  great  black  notes  of  interrogation,  se- 
verely inquiring.  Are  you  looking  into  your  breast  ? 
Do  you  deserve  your  blessings  ? Can  you  lay  your 
hand  upon  your  heart  and  say  that  you  are  worthy  of 
so  hysterical  a daughter  ? .1  do  not  ask  you  if  you 
are  worthy  of  such  a wife — put  Me  out  of  the  ques- 
tion-—but  are  you  sufficiently  conscious  of,  and  thank- 
ful for,  the  pervading  moral  grandeur  of  the  family 
spectacle  on  which  you  are  gazing  ? These  inquiries 
proved  very  harassing  to  K.  W.,  who,  besides  being  a 
little  disturbed  by  wine,  was  in  perpetual  terror  of 
committing  himself  by  the  utterance  of  stray  words 
that  would  betray  his  guilty  foreknowledge.  How- 
ever, the  scene  being  over,  and— all  things  considered — 
well  over,  he  sought  refuge  in  a doze  ; which  gave 
his  lady  immense  offense. 

Can  you  think  of  your  daughter  Bella,  and  sleep 
she  disdainfully  inquired. 

To  which  he  mildly  answered,  “ Yes,  I think  I can, 
my  dear.^’ . 

“ Then,’^  said  Mrs.  Wilfer,  with  solemn  indignation, 

would  recommend  you,  if  you  have  a human  feel- 
ing, to  retire  to  bed.’^ 

Thank  you,  my  dear,’^  he  replied  ; I think  it  is 
the  best  place  for  me.”  And  with  these  unsympathetic 
words  very  gladly  withdrew. 


Y6  OtJIi  MtrTtJAL  FPJEifI). 

Within  a few  weeks  afterward  the  Mendicant^s 
bride  (arm  in  arm  with  the  Mendicant)  came  to  tea, 
in  fulfillment  of  an  engagement  made  through  her 
father.  And  the  way  in  which  the  Mendicant’s  bride 
dashed  at  the  unassailable  position  so  considerately 
to  be  held  by  Miss  Lav^^,  and  scattered  the  whole  of 
the  works  in  all  directions  in  a moment,  was  tri- 
umphant. 

“ Dearest  Ma,^’  cried  Bella,  running  into  the  room 
with  a radiant  face,  how  do  you  do,  dearest  Ma 
And  then  embraced  her,  jo3>onsly.  And  Lavvy  dar- 
ling, how  do  you  do,  and  how’s  George  Sampson,  and 
how  is  he  getting  on,  and  when  are  you  going  to  be 
married,  and  how  rich  are  you  going  to  grow^  ? You 
must  tell  me  ail  about  it,  Lavvy  dear,  immediately. 
John  love,  kiss  Ma  and  Lavvy,  and  then  we  shall  all 
be  at  home  and  comfortable.” 

Mrs.  Wilfer  stared,  but  was  helpless.  Miss  Lavinia 
stared,  but  was  helpless.  Apparently"  with  no  com- 
punction, and  assuredly  w"ith  no  ceremony,  Bella 
tossed  her  bonnet  away,  and  sat  down  to  make 
the  tea. 

‘'Dearest  Ma  and 'Lavvy,  you  both  take  sugar,  I 
know.  And  Pa  (you  good  little  Pa),  you  don’t  take 
milk.  John  does.  I didn’t  before  I was  married;  but 
1 do  now’,  because  John  does.  John  dear,  did  ymu  kiss 
Ma  and  Lavvy  ? Ob,  y"ou  did  ! Quite  correct,  John 
dear  ; but  I didn’t  see  vou  do  it,  so  I asked.  Cut 
some  bread  and  butter,  John ; that’s  a love.'  Ma  likes 
it  doubled.  And  now  you  must  tell  me,  dearest  Ma 
and  Lavvy",  upon  your  words  and  honors  ! Didn’t 
you  for  a moment — just  a moment — think  I was  a 


OXJK  MUTUAL  TRIEND.  77 

dreadful  little  wretch  when  I wrote  to  say  I had  mn 
away  ?’’ 

Before  Mrs.  Wilfer  could  wave  licr  gloves,  the  Men- 
dicant’s bride  in  her  merriest  affectionate  manner  went 
on  again. 

''  I think  it  must  have  made  you  rather  cross,  dear  Ma 
and  Lavvy,  and  I know  I deserved  that  you  should  be 
very  cross.  But  you  see  I had  been  such  a heedless, 
heartless  creature,  and  had  led  you  so  to  expect  that  I 
f1i ould  marry  for  money,  and  so  to  make  sure  that  I was 
incapable  of  marrying  for  love,  that  I thought  you  couldn^t 
believe  me.  Because,  you  see,  you  didn’t  know  how 
much  of  Good,  Good,  Good,  I had  learned  from  John. 
Well  I So  I was  sly  about  it,  and  ashamed  of  what 
you  supposed  me  to  be,  and  fearful  that  we  couldn’t  un- 
derstand one  another  and  might  come  to  wurds,  which 
we  should  all  be  sorry  for  afterward,  and  so  I said  to 
John  that  if  he  liked  to  take  me  without  any  fuss  he 
might.  And  ns  he  did  like,  I let  him.  And  we  were 
married  at  Greenwich  church  in  the  presence  of  nobody — 
except  an  unknown  individual  who  dropped  in,”  here  her 
eyes  sparkled  more  brightly,  “ and  half  a pensioner. 
And  now,  isn’t  it  nice,  dearest  Ma  and  Lavvy,  to  know 
that  no  words  have  been  said  which  any  of  us  can  be 
sorry  for,  and  that  we  are  all  the  best  of  friends  at  the 
pleasantest  of  teas !” 

Having  got  up  and  kissed  them  again,  she  slipped  back 
to  her  chair  (after  a loop  on  the  road  to  squeeze  her  hus- 
band round  the  neck)  and  again  went  on. 

And  now  you  will  naturally  want  to  know,  dearest 
Ma  and  Lavvy,  how  we  live,  and  what  we  have  got  to 
live  upon.  ‘Well  1 And  so  we  live  on  Blackheath,  in 


78 


OUE  MUTUAL  FEIEND. 


the  charm — ingest  of  dolls’  houses,  de — lightfully  fur- 
nished, and  we  have  a clever  little  servant  who  is  de — ci- 
dedly  pretty,  and  we  are  economical  and  orderly,  and  do 
every  thing  by  clock-work,  and  we  have  a hundred  and 
fifty  pounds  a year,  and  we  have  all  we  want,  and  more. 
And  lastly,  if  you  would  like  to  know  in  confidence,  as 
perhaps  you  may,  what  is  my  opinion  of  my  husband,  my 
opinion  is — that  I almost  love  him  !” 

‘^And  if  you  would  like  to  know  in  confidence,  as 
perhaps  you  may,”  said  her  husband,  smiling,  as  he  stood 
by  her  side,  without  her  having  detected  his  approach, 
my  opinion  of  my  wife,  my  opinion  is — ” But  Bella 
started  up,  and  put  her  hand  upon  his  lips. 

Stop,  Sir  ! ISTo,  John,  dear  ! Seriously  1 Please 
not  yet  awhile  ! I want  to  be  something  so  much  wor- 
thier than  the  doll  in  the  doll’s  house.” 

“ My  darling,  are  you  not  ?” 

**  Not  half,  not  a quarter,  so  much  worthier  as  I hope 
you  may  some  day  find  me  ! Try  me  through  some  re- 
verse, John — try  me  through  some  trial — and  tell  them 
after  that  what  you  think  of  me.” 

I will,  my  Life,”  said  John.  “ I promise  it.” 

“ That’s  my  dear  John.  And  you  won’t  speak  a word 
now  ; will  you  ?” 

“ And  I won’t,”  said  John,  with  a very  expressive  look 
of  admiration  around  him,  speak  a word  now  !” 

She  laid  her  laughing  cheek  upon  his  breast  to  thank 
him,  and  said,  looking  at  the  rest  of  them  sideways  out 
of  her  bright  eyes ; “ I’ll  go  further.  Pa  and  Ma  and 
Lavvy.  John  don’t  suspect  it — he  has  no  idea  of  it — but 
I quite  love  him  1” 

Even  Mrs.  Wilfer  relaxed  under  the  influence  of  her 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


Y9 


married  daughter,  and  seemed  in. a majestic  manner  to 
imply  remotely  that  if  E.  W.  had  been  a more  deserving 
object,  she  too  might  have  condescended  to  come  dowm 
from  her  pedestal  for  his  beguilement  Miss  Lavinia,  on 
the  other  hand,  had  strong  doubts  of  the  policy  of  the 
course  of  treatment,  and  whether  it  might  not  spoil  Mr. 
Sampson,  if  experimented  on  in  the  case  of  that  young 
gentleman.  R.  W.  himself  was  for  his  part  convinced 
that  he  was  father  of  one  of  the  most  charming  of  girls, 
and  that  Rokesmith  was  the  most  favored  of  men  ; which 
opinion,  if  propounded  to  him,  Rokesmith  would  probably 
not  have  contested. 

The  newly -married  pair  left  early  so  that  they  might 
walk  at  leisure  to  their  starting  place  from  London  for 
Greenwich.  At  first  they  were  very  cheerful  and  talked 
much  ; but  after  a while  Bella  fancied  that  her  husband 
wms  turning  somewhat  thoughtful.  So  she  asked  him  : 

“ John  dear,  what’s  the  matter 
Matter,  my  love  ?”  * 

“ Won’t  you  tell  me,”  said  Bella,  looking  up  into  his 
face,  “ what  you  are  thinking  of?” 

“ There’s  not  much  in  the  thought,  my  soul.  I was 
thinking  whether  you  wouldn’t  like  me  to  be  rich  ?” 

You  rich,  John  ?”  repeated  Bella,  shrinking  a little. 

I mean  really  rich.  Say  as  rich  as  Mr.  Boffin.  You 
would  like  that  ?” 

should  be  almost  afraid  to  tiy,  John  dear.  Was 
he  much  the  better  for  his  v/ealth  ? Was  I much  the 
better  for  the  little  part  I once  had  in  it  ?” 

“But  all  people  are  not  the  worse  for  riches,  my  own.” 
“ Most  people  ?”  Bella  musingly  suggested  with  raised 
eyebrows. 


so 


OUIi  MUTUAL  FRTKNfi. 


‘•Nor 'even  most  people,  it  may  be  hoped.  If  yon 
were  rich,  for  instance,  you  vv^ould  have  a great  power  of 
doing  good  to  othersi^^ 

“Yes,  Sir,  for  instance,’^  Bella  playfully  rejoined  ; “ but 
should  I exercise  the  power,  for  instance  ? And  again, 
Sir,  for  instance  ; should  I,  at  the  same  time,  have  a 
great  power  of  doing  harm  to  myself?  ” 

Laughing  and  pressing  her  arm,  he  retorted  : “ But 
still,  again  for  instance  ; wmuld  you  exercise  that  power 
“ I don’t  knowV’  said  Bella,  thoughtfully  shaking  her 
head.  “ I hope  not.  I think  not.  But  it’s  so  easy  to 
hope  not  and  think  not,  without  the  riches.” 

“Why  don’t  you  say,  tny  darling — instead  of  that 
phrase — being  poor  ?”  he  asked,  looking  earnestly  at  her, 

“ Why,  don’t  I say  being  poor  ? Because  I am  not 
poor.  Dear  John,  it’s  not  possible  that  you  suppose  I 
think  we  are  poor  ?” 

“ I do,  my  love.” 

‘‘  Oh,  John  !” 

“ Understand  me,  sweetheart.  I know  that  I am  rich 
beyond  all  wealth  in  having  you  ; but  I think  of  you 
and  think  for  you.  In  such  a dress  as  you  are  wearing 
now  you  first  charmed  me,  and  in  no  dress  could  yon  ever 
look,  to  my  thinking,  more  graceful  or  more  beautiful. 
But  you  have  admired  many  finer  dresses  this  very  day  ; 
and  is  it  not  natural  that  I wish  I could  give  them  to  you  ?” 
“It’s  very  nice  that  you  should  wish  it,  John.  It  brings  ’ 
these  tears  of  grateful  pleasure  into  my  eyes  to  hear  you 
say  so  with  such  tenderness.  But  I don’t  want  them.” 

“ Again,”  he  pursued,  “ we  are  now  walking  through 
the  muddy  streets.  I love  those  pretty  feet  so  dearly 
that  I feel  as  if  I could  not  bear  the  dirt  to  soil  the  sole 


OTJR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


81 


of  your  shoe.  Is  it  not  natural  that  I wish  you  could 
ride  in  a carriage 

very  nicc/^  said  Bella,  glancing  downward  at  the 
feet  in  question,  to  know  that  you  admire  them  so  much, 
John  dear,  and  since  you  do,  I am  sorry  that  these  shoes 
are  a full  size  too  large.  But  I don^t  want  a carriage  ; 
believe  me.’^ 

“ You  would  like  one  if  you  could  have  one,  Bella 
I shouldn’t  like  it  for  its  own  sake  half  so  well  as  such 
a wish  for  it.  Dear  John,  your  wishes  are  as  real  to  me 
as  the  wishes  in  the  Fairy  story  that  were  all  fulfilled  as 
soon  as  spoken.  Wish  me  every  thing  that  you  can  wish 
for  the  woman  3^011  dearly  fove,  and  I have  as  good  as 
got  it,  John.  I have  better  than  got  it,  John  !” 

They  were  not  the  less  happy  for  such  talk,  and  home 
was  not  the  less  home  for  coming  after  it.  Bella  was  fast 
developing  a perfect  genius  for  home.  All  the  loves  and 
graces  seemed  (her  husband  thought)  to  have  taken  do- 
mestic service  with  her,  and  to  help  her  to  make  home 
engaging. 

Her  married  life  glided  happily  on.  She  was  alone  all 
day,  for,  after  an  early  breakfast,  her  husband  repaired 
every  morning  to  the  City,  and  did  not  return  until  their 
late  dinner  hour.  He  was  ‘Mn  a China  house,”  he  ex- 
plained to  Bella  : Avhich  she  found  quite  satisfactory  with- 
out pursuing  the  China  house  into  minuter  details  than  a 
wholesale  vision  of  tea,  rice,  odd-smclling  silks,  carved  boxes, 
and  tight-eyed  people  in  more  than  double-soled  shoes, 
with  their  pigtails  pulling  their  heads  of  hair  off,  painted 
on  transparent  porcelain.  She  always  walked  with  her 
husband  to  the  railroad,  and  was  always  there  again  to 
meet  him  ; her  old  coquettish  ways  a little  sobered  down 
4^ 


82 


OUR  MUTUAL  URlUitD* 


(but  not  much),  and  her  dress  as  daintily  managed  as  if 
she  managed  nothing  else.  But  John  gone  to  business 
and  Bella  returned  home,  the  dress  would  be  laid  aside, 
trim  little  wrappers  and  aprons  would  be  substituted,  and 
Bella,  putting  back  her  hair  with  both  hands,  as  if  she 
were  making  the  most  business-like  arrangements  for 
going  dramatically  distracted,  would  enter  on  the  house* 
hold  affairs  of  the  day.  Such  weighing  and  mixing  and 
chopping  and  grating,  such  dusting  and  washing  and 
polishing,  such  snipping  and  weeding  and  troweling  and 
other  small  gardening,  such  making  and  mending  and 
folding  and  airing,  such  diverse  arrangements,  and  above 
all  such  severe  study  1 For  Mrs.  J.  R.,  who  had  never 
been  wont  to  do  too  much  at  home  as  Miss  B.  W.,  was 
under  the  constant  necessity  of  referring  for  advice  and 
support  to  a sage  volume  entitled  The  Complete  British 
Family  Housewife,  which  she  would  sit  consulting,  with 
her  elbows  on  the  table  and  her  temples  on  her  hands, 
like  some  perplexed  enchantress  poring  over  the  Black 
Art.  This,  principally  because  the  Complete  British 
Housewife,  however  sound  a Briton  at  heart,  was  by  no 
means  an  expert  Briton  at  expressing  herself  with  clear- 
ness in  the  British  tongue,  and  sometimes  might  have 
issued  her  directions  to  equal  purpose  in  the  Kamskatchaii 
language.  In  any  crisis  of  this  nature  Bella  would  sud- 
denly exclaim  aloud,  ‘‘  Oh  you  ridiculous  old  thing,  what 
do  you  mean  by  that  ? You  must  have  been  drinking 
And  having  made  this  marginal  note,  would  try  the 
Housewife  again,  with  all  her  dimples  screwed  into  an 
expression  of  profound  research. 

There  was  likewise  a coolness  on  the  part  of  the  British 
Housewife,  which  Mrs.  John  Rokesmith  found  highly  ex- 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


^ 83 


asperating.  She  would  say,  Take  a salamander,’^  as  if 
a general  should  command  a private  to  catch  a Tartar. 
Or  she  would  casually  iss-ne  the  order,  “ Throw  in  a hand- 
ful— ” of  something  entirely  unattainable.  In  these,  the 
Housewife’s  most  glaring  moments  of  unreason,  Bella 
would  shut  her  up  and  knock  her  on  the  table,  apostro- 
phising her  with  the  compliment,  ‘‘  0 you  are  a stupid 
old  Donkey  ! Where  am  I to  get  it,  do  you  think  ?” 
Another  branch  of  study  claimed  the  attention  of  Mrs. 
John  Rokesmith  for  a regular  period  every  day.  This 
was  the  mastering  of  the  newspaper,  so  that  she  might 
be  close  up  with  John  on  general  topics  when  John  came 
home.  In  her  desire  to  be  in  all  thing's  his  companion 
she  would  have  set  herself  with  equal  zeal  to  master 
Algebra,  or  Euclid,  if  he  had  divided  his  soul  between 
her  and  either.  Wonderful  was  the  way  in  which  she 
would  store  up  the  City  Intelligence,  and  beamingly 
shed  it  upon  John  in  the  course  of  the  evening  ; inciden- 
tally mentioning  the  commodities  that  were  looking  up 
in  the  markets,  and  how  much  gold  had  been  taken  to 
the  Bank,  and  trying  to  look  wise  and  serious  over  it  until 
she  would  laugh  at  herself  most  charmingly  and  would 
say,  kissing  him  : It  all  comes  of  my  love,  John  dear.” 

For  a City  man  John  certainly  did  appear  to  care  as 
little  as  might  be  for  the  looking  up  or  down  of  things, 
as  well  as  for  the  gold  that  got  taken  to  the  Bank,  But 
he  cared,  beyond  all  expression,  for  his  wife,  as  a most 
precious  arid  sweet  commodity  that  was  always  looking 
up,  and  that  never  was  worth  less  than  all  the  gold  in  the 
world.  And  she,  being  inspired  by  her  affection,  and 
having  a quick  wit  and  a fine  ready  instinct,  made  amazing 
progress  in  hertiomestic  efficiency,  though,  as  an  endear- 


84 


OUK  MUTUAL  FKIEND. 


ing  creature,  she  made  no  progress  at  all.  This  was  her 
Imsbaud’s  verdict,  and  he  justified  it  by  telling  her  that 
she  liad  begun  her  married  life  as  the  most  endearing 
creature  that  could  possibly  be. 

And  you  have  such  a cheerful  spirit  !”  he  said, 
fondly.  “ You  are  like  a bright  light  in  the  house.^' 

“ Am  I truly,  Jolm 

Are  yon,  truly  ? Yes,  indeed.  Only  much  more, 
and  ranch  better.^^ 

Do  you  know,  dear  John,^^  said  Bella,  taking  him  by 
a button  of  his  coat,  that  I sometimes,  at  odd  moments 
— don’t  laugh,  John,  please.” 

Nothing  should  induce  John  to  do  it,  when  she  asked 
him  not  to  do  it. 

“ — That  I sometimes  think,  John,  I feel  a little  se- 
rious.” 

Are  you  too  much  alone,  my  darling  ?” 

“ Oh  dear,  no,  John  ! The  time  is  so  short  that  I 
have  not  a moment  too  much  in  the  week.” 

Why  serious,  my  life,  then  ? When  serious  ?” 

When  I laugh,  I think,”  said  Bella,  laughing  as  she 
laid  her  head  upon  his  shoulder.  You  wouldn’t  be- 
lieve, Sir,  that  I feel  serious  now  ? But  I do.”  And 
she  laughed  again,  and  sometliing  glistened  iu  her 
eyes. 

Would  you  like  to  be  rich,  pot  ?”  he  asked  her,  coax- 
ingly. 

‘‘Rich,  John  1 How  you  ask  such  goose’s  ques- 
tions ?” 

“ Do  you  regret  any  thing,  my  love  ?” 

“Regret  any  tiling  ? No  !”  Bella  confidently  answer- 
ed. But  then  suddenly  changing,  sh#  said,  between 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


85 


laughing  and  glistening : “ Oh  yes,  I do  thongh.  I 
regret  Mrs. 

I,  too,  regret  tliat  separation  very  much.  But  per- 
haps it  is  only  temporary.  Perhaps  things  may  so  fall 
out  as  that  you  may  sometimes  see  her  again — as  that 
we  may  sometimes  see  her  again.^^  Bella  might  be  very 
anxious  on  the  subject,  but  she  scarcely  seemed  so  at  the 
moment.  With  an  absent  air  she  w^s  investigating  that 
button  on  her  husband^s  coat,  when  Pa  came  in  to  spend 
the  evening. 

Pa  had  his  special  chair  and  his  special  corner  reserved 
for  him  on  all  occasions,  and — without  disparagement  of 
his  domestic  joys — was  far  happier  there  than  any  where. 
It  was  always  pleasantly  droll  to  see  Pa  and  Bella 
together ; but  on  this  present  evening  her  husband 
thought  her  more  than  usually  fantastic  with  him. 

“ You  are  a very  good  little  boy,’^  said  Bella,  ‘‘  to 
come  unexpectedly,  as  soon  as  you  could  get  out  of 
school.  And  how  have  they  used  you  at  school  to-day, 
you  dear?’^ 

“ Well,  my  pet,’^  replied  the  cherub,  smiling  and  rub- 
bing his  hands  as  she  sat  him  down  in  his  chair,  ‘‘I 
attend  two  schools.  There’s  the  Mincing  Lane  establish- 
ment, and  there’s  your  mother’s  Academy.  Which  might 
you  mean,  my  dear  ?” 

''  Both,”  said  Bella. 

‘'Both,  eh  ? Why,  to  say  the  truth,  both  have  taken 
a little  out  of  me  to-day,  my  dear,  but  that  was  to  be 
expected.  There’s  no  royal  road  to  learning  ; and  what 
is  life  but  learning  !” 

“ And  what  do  you  do  with  yourself  when  you  have 
got  your  learning  by  heart,  you  silly  child  ?” 


OtK  MUttAL  FRI12N1), 


86 

Why  tlien,  my  dear/^  said  the  cherub,  after  a little 
consideration,  I suppose  I must  die.’^ 

‘‘  You  are  a very  bad  boy,^’  retorted  Bella,  to  talk 
about  dismal  things  and  be  out  of  spirits^’^ 

My  Bella,’^  rejoined  her  father,  I am  not  out  of 
spirits.  I am  as  gay  as  a lark.”  Which  his  face  con- 
firmed. 

Then  if  you  arc'sure  and  certain  it's  not  you,  I sup- 
pose it  must  be  I,”  said  Bella  5 “so  1 won’t  do  so  any 
more.  John  dear,  we  must  give  this  little  fellow  his  sup- 
per, you  know.” 

“ Of  course  we  must,  my  darling.” 

“ He  has  been  grubbing  and  grubbing  at  school,”  said 
Bella,  looking  at  her  father’s  hand  and  lightly  slapping 
it,  “ till  he’s  not  fit  to  be  seen.  O what  a grubby 
child  !” 

“Indeed,  my  dear,”  said  her  father,  “I  was  going  to 
ask  to  be  allowed  to  wash  my  hands,  only  you  find  me 
out  so  soon.” 

“ Come  here,  Sir  1”  cried  Bella,  taking  him  by  the 
front  of  his  coat,  “ come  here  and  be  washed  directly. 
You  are  not  to  be  trusted  to  do  it  for  yourself.  Come 
here.  Sir  !” 

The  cherub,  to  his  genial  amusement,  was  accordingly 
conducted  to  a liLtle  washing-room,  where  Bella  soaped 
his  face  and  rubbed  his  face,  and  soaped  his  hands  and 
rubbed  his  hands,  and  splashed  him  and  rinsed  him  and 
toweled  him,  until  he  was  as  red  as  beet-root,  even  to  his 
very  ears  : “Now  you  must  be  brushed  and  combed. 
Sir,”  said  Bella,  busily.  “Hold  the  light,  John.  Shut 
your  eyes.  Sir,  and  let  me  take  hold  of  you  chin.  Be 
good  directly,  and  do  as  you  are  told  1” 


OtFR  iVItTTUAL  FRIENB* 


87 


Her  father  being  more  than  willing  to  obey,  she  dress* 
ed  his  hair  in  her  most  elaborate  maimer,  brushing  it  out 
straight,  parting  it,  winding  it  over  her  fingers,  sticking 
it  up  on  end,  and  constantly  falling  back  on  John  to  get 
a good  look  at  the  elFect  of  it*  Who  always  received 
her  on  his  disengaged  arm,  and  detained  her,  while  the 
patient  cherub  stood  waiting  to  be  finished. 

There  said  Bella,  when  she  had  at  last  completed 
the  final  touches.  N^ow,  you  are  something  like  a gen- 
teel boy  ! Put  your  jacket  on,  and  come  and  have  your 
supper.’^ 

The  cherub  investing  himself  with  his  coat  was  led 
back  to  his  corner — where,  but  for  having  no  egotism  in 
his  pleasant  nature,  he  would  have  answered  well  enough 
for  that  radiant  though  self-sufficient  boy.  Jack  Horner — 
Bella  with  her  own  hands  laid  a cloth  for  him,  and 
brought  him  his  supper  on  a tray.  Stop  a moment,^^ 
said  slie,  “ we  must  keep  his  little  clothes  clean  f and 
tied  a napkin  under  his  chin,  in  a very  methodical  man- 
ner. 

Wiiile  he  took  his  supper  Bella  sat  by  him,  sometimes 
admonishing  him  to  hold  his  fork  by  the  handle,  like  a 
polite  child,  and  at  other  times  carving  for  him,  or  pour- 
ing out  his  drink.  Fantastic  as  it  all  was,  and  accus- 
tomed as  she  ever  had  been  to  make  a plaything  of  her 
good  father,  ever  delighted  that  she  should  put  him  to 
that  account,  still  there  was  an  occasional  something  on 
Beliaks  part  that  was  new.  It  could  not  be  said  that  she 
was  less  playful,  whimsical,  or  natural  than  she  always 
had  been  ; but  it  seemed,  her  husband  thought,  as  if 
there  were  some  rather  graver  reason  than  he  had  sup- 
posed for  what  she  had  so  lately  said,  and  as  if,  through- 


88 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


out  all  this,  there  were  glimpses  of  an  underlying  serious- 
ness. 

It  was  a circumstance  in  support  of  this  view  of  the 
case,  that  when  she  had  lighted  her  father’s  pipe,  and 
mixed  him  his  glass  of  grog,  she  sat  down  on  a stool  be- 
tween her  fatlier  and  her  husband,  leaning  her  arm  upon 
the  latter,  and  was  very  quiet.  So  quiet  that,  when  her 
father  rose  to  take  his  leave,  she  looked  round  with  a 
start,  as  if  she  had  forgotten  his  being  there. 

‘‘  You  go  a little  way  with  Pa,  John  ?” 

“ Yes,  my  dear.  Do  you 

‘‘  I have  not  written  to  Lizzie  Hexam  since  I wrote 
and  told  her  that  I really  had  a lover — a whole  one.  I 
have  often  thought  I would  like  to  tell  her  how  right  she 
was  when  she  pretended  to  read  in  the  live  coals  that  I 
would  go  through  fire  and  water  for  him.  I am  in  the 
humor  to  tell  her  so  to-night,  John,  and  Pll  stay  at  home 
and  do  it.” 

You  are  tired.” 

jS^ot  at  all  tired,  Jotm  dear,  but  in  the  humor  to 
wunte  to  Lizzie.  Good-night,  dear  Pa.  Good-night,  you 
dear,  good,  gentle  Pa  !” 

Left  to  herself,  she  sat  down  to  write,  and  wrote  Lizzie 
a long  letter.  She  had  but  completed  it  and  read  it  over, 
when  her  husband  came  back.  You  are  just  in  time, 
Sir,”  said  Bella  ; I am  going  to  give  you  your  first  cur- 
tain lecture.  It  shall  be  a parlor-curtain  lecture.  You 
shall  take  this  chair  of  mine  when  I have  folded  my  let- 
ter, and  I 'will  take  the  stool  (though  you  ought  to  take 
it,  I can  tell  you,  Sir,  if  it’s  the  stool  of  repentance),  and 
you’ll  soon  find  yourself  taken  to  task  soundly.” 

Her  letter  folded,  scaled,  and  directed,  and  her  pen 


OUK  MUTUAL  FETEND. 


89 


wiped,  and  her  middle  finger  wiped,  and  her  desk  locked 
np  and  put  away,  and  these  transactions  performed  with 
an  air  of  severe  business  sedateness,  which  the  Complete 
British  Housewife  might  have  assumed,  and  certainly 
would  not  have  rounded  oif  and  broken  down  in  with  a 
musical  laugh,  as  Bella  did  : she  placed  her  husband  in 
his  chair,  and  placed  herself  upon  her  stool. 

*•'  ^ow,  Sir  ! To  begin  at  the  beginning.  What  is 
your  name 

A question  more  decidedly  rushing  at  the  secret  he  was 
keeping  from  her  could  not  have  astounded  him.  But  he 
kept  his  countenance  and  his  secret,  and  answered, 
“John  Bokesmith,  my  dear.^’ 

“ Good  boy  ! Who  gave  you  that  name 
With  a returning  suspicion  that  something  might  have 
betrayed  liiin  to  her,  he  answered,  interrogatively,  “ My 
godfathers  and  my  godmothers,  dear  love  1” 

“Pretty  good!^^  said  Bella.  “I^ot  goodest  good, 
because  you  hesitate  about  it.  However,  as  you  know 
your  Catechism  fairly,  so  far,  PIl  let  you  off  the  rest. 
Now,  I am  going  to  examine  you  out  of  my  own  bead. 
John  dear,  why  did  you  go  back,  this  evening,  to  the 
question  you  once  asked  me  before — would  I like  to  be 
rich  V’ 

Again,  his  secret  ! He  looked  down  at  her  as  she 
looked  up  at  him,  with  her  hands  folded  on  his  knee,  and 
it  was  as  nearly  told  as  ever  secret  was. 

Having  no  reply  ready,  he  could  do  no  better  than 
embrace  her. 

“ In  short,  dear  John,^^  said  Bella,  “ this  is  the  topic  of 
my  lecture  : I want  nothing  on  earth,  and  I want  you  to 
believe  it,^’ 


so 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND, 


If  thai^s  all,  the  lecture  may  be  considered  over,  for 
I do.” 

It^s  not  all,  John  dear,”  Bella  hesitated,  It’s 
only  Firstly.  There’s  a dreadful  Secondly,  and  a dread- 
ful Thirdly  to  come — as  I used  to  say  to  myself  in  ser- 
mon-time when  I was  a very  small-sized  sinner  at 
church.” 

‘‘  Let  them  come,  my  dearest” 

Are  you  sure,  John  dear  } are  you  absolutely  certain 
in  your  innermost  heart  of  hearts — ?” 

Which  is  not  in  my  keeping,”  he  rejoined. 

No,  John,  but  the  key  is. — Are  you  absolutely  cer- 
tain that  down  at  the  bottom  of  that  heart  of  hearts, 
which  you  have  given  to  me  as  I have  given  mine  to  you, 
there  is  no  remembrance  that  I was  once  very  mer- 
cenary ?” 

Why,  if  there  w^ere  no  remembrance  in  me  of  the 
time  you  speak  of,”  he  softly  asked  her  with  his  lips  to 
liers,  could  I love  you  quite  as  well  as  I do ; could  I 
have,  in  the  Calendar  of  my  life  the  brightest  of  its  days  ; 
could  I,  whenever  I look  at  your  dear  face,  or  hear  your 
dear  voice,  see  and  hear  my  noble  champion  ? It  can 
never  have  been  that  which  made  you  serious,  darling  ?” 

No,  John,  it  wasn’t  that,  and  still  less  was  it  Mrs. 
Boffin,  though  I love  her.  Wait  a moment  and  I’ll  go 
on  with  the  lecture.  Give  me  a moment,  because  I like 
to  cry  for  joy.  It’s  so  delicious,  John  dear,  to  cry  for 

joy-” 

She  did  so  on  his  neck,  and,  still  clinging  there,  laugh- 
ed a little  when  she  said,  I think  I am  ready  now  for 
Thirdly,  John.” 

I am  ready  for  Thirdl}’,”  said  John,  whatever  it  is.” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


91 


I believe,  Jolin,’^  pursued  Bella,  that  you  believe 
that  I believe — 

My  dear  child, cried  her  husband  gayly,  what  a 
quantity  of  believing  !’’ 

Isn^t  there  said  Bella,  with  another  laugh.  I 
never  knew  such  a quantity  ! It’s  like  verbs  in  an  exer- 
cise. But  I can’t  get  on  with  less  believing.  I’ll  try 
again.  I believe,  dear  John,  that  you  believe  that  I be- 
lieve that  we  have  as  much  money  as  we  require,  and 
that  we  want  for  nothing.” 

It  is  strictly  true,  Bella.” 

But  if  our  money  should  by  any  means  be  rendered 
not  so  much — if  we  had  to  stint  ourselves  a little  in  pur- 
chases that  we  can  afford  to*  make  now — would  you  still 
have  the  same  confidence  in  my  being  quite  contented, 
John  ?” 

Precisely  the  same  confidence,  my  soul.” 

Thank  you,  John  dear,  thousands  upon  thousands  of 
times.  And  I may  take  it  for  granted,  no  doubt,”  with 
a little  faltering,  that  you  would  be  quite  as  contented 
yourself,  John  ? But,  yes,  I know  I may.  For,  know-, 
ing  that  I should  be  so,  how  surely  I may  know  that 
you  would  be  so  ; you  who  are  so  much  stronger,  and 
firmer,  and  more  reasonable  and  more  generous,  than  I 
am.” 

Hush  !”  said  her  husband,  I must  not  hear  that. 
You  are  all  wrong  there,  though  otherwise  as  right  as 
can  be.  And  now  I am  brought  to  a little  piece  of  news, 
my  dearest,  that  I might  have  told  you  earlier  in  the 
evening.  I have  strong  reason  for  confidently  believing 
that  we  shall  never  be  in  the  receipt  of  a smaller  income 
than  our  present  income.” 


92 


OUR  Mutual  friend. 


She  might  have  shown  herself  more  interested  in  the 
intelligence  ; but  she  had  returned  to  the  investigation  of 
the  coat-button  that  had  engaged  her  attention  a few 
hours  before,  and  scarcely  seemed  to  heed  what  he  said. 

And  now  we  have  got  to  the  bottom  of  it  at  last/^ 
cried  her  husband,  rallying  her,  and  this  is  the  thing 
that  made  you  serious 

No,  dear,^^  said  Bella,  twisting  the  button  and  shak- 
ing her  head,  ‘'it  wasn’t  this.” 

“ Why  then,  Lord  bless  this  little  wife  of  mine,  there’s 
a Fourthly  !”  exclaimed  John. 

“ This  worried  me  a little,  and  so  did  Secondly,”  said 
Bella,  occupied  with  the  button,  “ but  it  is  quite  another 
sort  of  seriousness — a much  deeper  and  quieter  sort  of 
seriousness — that  I spoke  of,  John  dear.” 

As  he  bent  his  face  to  hers,  she  raised  hers  to  meet  it, 
and  laid  her  little  right  hand  on  his  eyes  and  kept  it 
there. 

“Do  you  remember,  John,  on  the  day  we  were  mar- 
ried, Pa’s  speaking  of  the  ships  that  might  be  sailing 
toward  us  from  the  unknown  seas  ?” 

“ Perfectly,  my  darling  !” 

“ I think among  them. . . .there  is  a ship  upon  the 

ocean. . . .bringing to  you  and  me. . . .a  little  baby, 

John.” 


OtTR  MUTtT^iL  FRIEND. 


93 


CHAPTER  YI. 

A CRY  FOR  HELP. 

The  Paper  Mill  bad  stopped  work  for  the  night,  and 
the  paths  and  roads  in  its  neighborhood  were  sprinkled 
With  clusters  of  people  going  home  from  their  daj^s  labor 
in  it.  There  were  men,  women,  and  children  in  the 
groups,  and  there  was  no  want  of  lively  color  to  flutter 
in  the  gentle  evening  wind.  The  mingling  of  various 
voices  and  the  sound  of  laughter  made  a cheerful  impres- 
sion upon  the  ear,  analogous  to  that  of  the  fluttering 
colors  upon  the  eye.  Into  the  sheet  of  water  reflecting 
the  flushed  sky  in  the  fore-ground  of  the  living  picture, 
a knot  of  urchins  were  casting  stones,  and  watching  the 
expansion  of  the  rippling  circles.  So,  in  the  rosy  evening, 
one  might  watch  the  ever-widening  beauty  of  the  land* 
scape — beyond  the  newly-released  workers  wending  home 
— beyond  the  silver  river — beyond  the  deep  green  fields 
of  corn,  so  prospering,  that  the  loiterers’  in  their  narrow 
threads  of  pathway  seemed  to  float  immersed  breast- 
high— beyond  the  hedge-rows  and  the  clumps  of  trees — 
beyond  the  wind-mills  on  the  ridge — away  to  where  the 
sky  appeared  to  meet  the  earth,  as  if  there  were  no  im- 
mensity of  spa-3e  between  mankind  and  Heaven. 

It  was  a Saturday  evening,  and  at  such  a time  the 
village  dogs,  always  much  more  interested  in  the  doings 
of  humanity  than  in  the  aflairs  of  their  own  species, 


94 


OtTR  Mtrr^AL 


were  particularly  activc4  At  the  general  shop,  at  thd 
butcher^s  and  at  the  public-house,  they  evinced  an  inquir- 
ing spirit  never  to  be  satiated,  jfheir  especial  interest  in 
the  public-house  would  seem  to  imply  some  latent  rakish* 
ness  in  the  canine  character  ; for  little  was  eaten  there, 
and  they,  haring  no  taste  for  beer  or  tobacco  (Mrs.  Hub-- 
bard^s  dog  is  said  to  have  smoked,  but  proof  is  wanting), 
could  only  hate  been  attracted  by  sympathy  with  loose 
convivial  habits.  Moreover,  a most  wretched  fiddle 
played  within  ; a fiddle  so  unutterably  vile,  that  one  lean 
long-bodied  cur,  with  a better  ear  than  the  rest,  found 
himself  under  compulsion  at  intervals  to  go  round  the 
corner  and  howh  Yet  even  he  returned  to  the  public- 
house  on  each  occasion  with  the  tenacity  of  a confirmed 
drunkard. 

Fearful  to  relate,  there  was  even  a sort  of  little  Fair 
in  the  village.  Some  despairing  gingerbread  that  had 
been  vainly  trying  to  dispose  of  itself  all  over  the  coun- 
try, and  had  cast  a quantity  of  dust  upon  its  head  in  its 
mortification,  again  appealed  to  the  public  from  an  infirm 
booth*  So  did  a heap  of  nuts,  long,  long  exiled  from 
Barcelona,  and  yet  speaking  English  so  indifferently  as 
to  call  fourteen  of  themselves  a pint.  A Peep-show, 
which  had  originally  started  with  the  Battle  of  Waterloo, 
and  had  since  made  it  every  other  battle  of  later  date  by 
altering  the  Duke  of  Wellington's  nose,  tempted  the  stu- 
dent of  illustrated  history.  A Fat  Lady,  perhaps  in  part 
sustained  upon  postponed  pork,  her  professional  associate 
being  a Learned  Pig,  displayed  her  life-size  picture  in  a 
low  dress  as  she  appeared  when  presented  at  Court,  seve- 
ral yards  round.  All  this  was  vicious  spectacle  as  any 
poor  idea  of  amusement  on  the  part  of  the  rougher  hew- 


Otm  MUTUAL  S5 

ers  of  TTOod  and  drawers  of  water  in  this  land  of  England 
ever  is  and  shall  be.  They  must  not  vary  the  rhenmatisni 
with  amusement.  They  may  vary  it  with  fever  and  ague^ 
or  with  as  many  rheumatic  variations  as  they  have  joints  j 
but  positively  not  with  entertainment  after  their  own 
manner. 

The  various  sounds  arising  from  this  scene  of  depravity^ 
and  floating  away  into  the  still  evening  aii%  made  the 
evenings  at  any  point  which  they  had  just  reached  fit- 
fully, mellowed  by  the  distance,,  more  still  by  contrasts 
Such  was  the  stillness  of  the  evening  to  Eugene  Wray- 
burn,  as  he  walked  by  the  river  v/ith  his  hands  behind 
him. 

He  walked  slowly,  and  with  tlie  measured  step  and 
preoccupied  air  cf  one  who-  was  waiting.  He  walked 
between  the  two  points,,  an  osier-bed  at  this  end  and 
some  floating  lilies  at  that,  and  at  each  point  stopped 
and  looked  expectantly  in  one  direction. 

“ It  is  very  quieV^  said  he. 

It  was  verj  quiet.  Some  sheep  were  grazing  on 
the  grass  bj  the  river-side,  and  it  seemed  to  hi  nr  that 
he  had  never  before  beard  the  crisp  tearing  sound  with 
which  they  cropped  it..  He  stopped  idly,  and  looked 
at  them. 

“ You  are  stupid  enough,  I suppose.  But  if  you 
are  clever  enough  to  get  through  life  tolerably  to  your 
satisfaction^  you  have  got  the  better  of  me,  Man  as  I 
am,,  and  Mutton  as  you  are  P 

A rustle  in  a field  beyond  the  hedge  attracted  his 
attention.  What^s  here  to  do  he  asked  himself^ 
leisurel}’’  going  toward  the  gate  and  looking  over. 

No  jealous  paper-miller  ? No  pleasures  of  the  chase 


96 


OUB  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


in  this  parir  of  the  country  ? Mostly  fishing  here* 
abouts  !” 

The  field  liadbeen  newly  mown,  and  there  were  yet 
the  marks  of  the  scythe  on  the  yellow-green  ground, 
and  the  track  of  wheels  where  the  hay  had  been  car- 
ried. Following  the  tracks  wi’h  his  eyes,  the  view 
closed  with  the  new  hay  rick  in  a corner. 

Now  if  he  bad  gone  on  to  the  hayrick,  and  gone 
round  it  ? But,  say  that  the  event  w^as  to  be,  as  the 
event  fell  out,  and  how  idle  are  such  suppositions  I 
Besides,  if  he  had  gone  ; what  is  there  of  warning  in 
a Bargeman  lying  on  his  face  ! 

A bird  flying  to  the  hedge,”  was  all  he  thought 
about  it  ; and  came  back,  and  resumed  his  walk. 

Jf  I had  not  a reliance  on  her  being  truthful,”  said 
Eugene,  after  taking  some  half  dozen  turns,  I should 
begin  to  think  she  had  given  me  the  slip  for  the  second 
time.  But  she  promised,  and  she  is  a girl  of  her 
word.” 

Turning  again  at  the  water-lilies,  he  saw  her  com- 
ing, and  advanced  to  meet  her. 

“I  was  saying  to  myself,  Lizzie,  that  you  were  sure 
to  come,  though  you  were  late.” 

'‘I  bad  to  linger  through  the  village  as  if  I had  no 
object  before  me,  and  I had  to  speak  to  several  people 
in  passing  along,  Mr.  Wray  burn.” 

Are  the  lads  of  the  village — and  the  ladies — such 
scandal-mongers  he  asked,  as  he  took  her  hand  and 
drew  it  through  his  arm. 

• She  submitted  to  walk  slowly  on,  wdtb  downcast 
eyes.  He  put  her  hand  to  his  lips,  and  she  quietly 
drew  it  away. 


OUK  MUTUAL  UBIEND. 


97 


Will  you.  walk  beside  me,  Mr.  Wrayburn,  and  not 
touch  me  ?”  for  his  arm  was  already  stealing  round 
her  waist. 

She  stopped  again,  and  gave  him  an  earnest,  sup- 
plicating look.  Well,  Lizzie,  well  said  he,  in  an 
easy  way  though  ill  at  ease  with  himself,  ‘Mon’t  be 
unhappy,  don^t  be  reproachful.’’ 

I can  not  help  being  unhappy,  but  I do  not  mean 
to  be  reproachful,  Mr.  Wrayburn,  I implore  you  to 
go  away  from  this  neighborhood,  to-morrow  raorn- 
ing.” 

“ Lizzie,  Lizzie,  Lizzie  1”  he  remonstrated.  As 
well  be  reproachful  as  wholly  unreasonable.  I can’t 
go  away.” 

Why  not  ?”  ♦ 

Faith  !”  said  Eugene,  in  his  airily  candid  manner. 
“ Because  you  won’t  let  me.  Mind  1 I don’t  mean  to 
be  reproachful  either.  I don’t  complain  that  you  de- 
sign to  keep  me  here.  But  you  do  it,  you  do  it.” 

Will  you  walk  beside  me,  and  not  touch  me,”  for 
his  arm  was  coming  about  her  again  5 while  I speak 
to  you  very  seriously,  Mr.  Wrayburn?” 

''  I will  do  thing  within  the  limits  of  possibility, 
for  you,  Lizzie,”  he  answered  with  pleasant  gayety  as 
he  folded  his  arms,  See  here  ! Napoleon  Bonaparte 
at  St.  Helena,” 

When  you  spoke  to  me  as  I came  from  the  Mill 
the  night  before  last,”  said  Lizzie,  filing  her  eyes  upon 
him  with  the  look  of  supplication,  which  troubled  his 
better  nature,  you  told  me  that  you  were  much  sur- 
prised to  see  me,  and  that  you  were  on  a solitary  fish- 
ing excursion.  Was  it  true  ?” 

5 


98 


OXJR  MUTUAL  FRIEND 


It  was  not/’  replied  Eugene,  composedly,  in  the 
least  true.  I came  here  because  I had  information 
that  I should  find  you  here.” 

‘^Can  you  imagine  why  I left  London,  Mr.  Wray- 
burn  ?” 

I am  afraid,  Lizzie,”  he  openly  answered,  that 
you  left  London  to  get  rid  of  me.  It  is  not  flattering 
to  m}^  self-love,  but  I am  afraid  you  did.” 

I did.” 

How  could  you  be  so  cruel  ?” 

0,  Mr.  Wraybiirn,”  she  ansv/ered,  suddenly  break- 
ing into  tears,  “ is  the  cruelty  on  my  side  ! 0,  Mr. 

Wrayburn,  Mr.^Wrayburn,  is  there  no  cruelty  in  your 
being  here  to-night  !” 

In  the  nanfe  of  all  that’s  good — and  that  is  not 
conjuring  you  in  my  own  name,  for  Heaven  knows  I 
am  not  good” — said  Eugene,  “ don’t  be  distressed  !” 

What  else  can  I be,  when  I know  .the  distance  and 
the  difference  between  us  ? What  else  can  I be,  when 
to  tell  me  wh}^  you  came  here  is  to  put  me  to  shame  !” 
said  Lizzie,  covering  her  face. 

He  looked  at  her  with  a real  sentiment  of  remorseful 
tenderness  and  pity.  It  was  not  strong  enough  to 
impel  him  to  sacrifice  himself  and  spare  her,  but  it 
was  a strong  emotion. 

Lizzie  1 I never  thought  before  that  there  was  a 
woman  in  the  world  who  could  affect  me  so  much  by 
saying  so  little.  But  don’t  be  hard  in  your  construc- 
tion of  me.  You  don’t  know  what  my  state  of  mind  to- 
ward you  is.  You  don’t  know  how  you  haunt  me  and 
bewilder  me.  You  don’t  know  how  the  cursed  care- 
lessness that  is  over-ofiB.cious  in  helping  me  at  every 


OVn  MUTUAL  FKIEND* 


99 


other  turning  of  my  life,  won’t  help  me  here.  You 
have  struck  it  dead,  I think,  and  I sometimes  almost 
wish  you  had  struck  me  dead  along  with  it.” 

She  had  not  been  prepared  for  such  passionate  ex-^ 
prcssions,  and  they  awakened  some  natural  sparks  of 
feminine  pride  and  joy  in  her  breast.  To  consider, 
wrong  as  he  was,  that  he  could  care  so  much  for  her, 
and  that  she  had  the  power  to  move  him  so  ! 

“ It  grieves  you  to  see  me  distressed,  Mr.  Wrayburn  ; 
it  grieves  me  to  see  you  distressed.  I don’t  reproach 
you.  Indeed  I don’t  reproach  you.  You  have  not  felt 
this  as  I feel  it,  being  so  different  from  me,  arid  beginning 
from  another  point  of  view.  You  have  not  thought. 
But  I entreat  you  to  think  now,  think  now  I” 

What  am  I to  think  of  ?”  asked  Eugene,  bitterly. 

Think  of  me.” 

Tell  me  how  not  to  think  of  you,  Lizzie,  and  you’ll 
change  me  altogether.” 

I don’t  mean  in  that  way.  Think  of  me  as  belonging 
to  another  station,  and  quite  cut  off  from  you  in  honor. 
Eemember  that  I have  no  protector  near  me,  unless  I 
have  one  in  your  noble  heart.  Respect  my  good  name. 
If  you  feel  toward  me,  in  one  particular,  as  you  might  if 
I was  a lady,  give  me  the  full  claims  of  a lady  upon  your 
■generous  behavior.  I am  removed  from  you  and  your 
family  by  being  a working  girl.  How  true  a gentleman 
to  be  as  considerate  of  me  as  if  I was  removed  by  being 
a Queen  !” 

He  would  have  been  base  indeed  to  have  stood  un* 
touched  by  her  appeal.  His  face  expressed  contrition 
and  indecision  as  he  asked  : 

Have  I injured  you  so  much,  Lizzie 


100 


OVn  MUTOAL  FRiEKt). 


No,  no*  You  mny  set  me  quite  right.  I don’t 
speak  of  the  past,  Mr.  Wrayburn,  but  of  the  present  and 
the  future*  Are  we  not  here  now,  because  through  two 
days  you  have  followed  me  so  closely  where  there  are  so 
ma.ny  eyes  to  see  you,  that  I consented  to  this  appoint- 
ment as  an  escape 

Again  not  very  flattering  to  my  self-love,"'  said 
Eugene,  moodily  ; but  yes.  Yes.  Yes.^' 

Then  I beseech  you,  Mr.  Wrayburn,  I beg  and  pray 
you,  leave  this  neighborhood.  If  you  do  not,  consider  to 
what  you  will  drive  me*” 

He  did  consider  within  himself  for  a moment  or  two, 
and  then  retorted,  Drive  you  ? To  what  shall  I drive 
you,  Lizzie 

‘‘  You  will  drive  me  away.  I live  here  peacefully  and 
respected,  and  I am  well  employed  here.  You  will  force 
me  to  quit  this  place  as  I quitted  London,  and“by  fol- 
lowing me  again — will  force  me  to  quit  the  next  place  in 
which  I may  find  refuge,  as  I quitted  tliis.” 

And  are  you  so  determined,  Lizzie — forgive  the  word 
I am  going  to  use,  for  its  literal  truth — to  fly  from  a 
lover 

I am  so  determined,”  she  ansv/ered  resolutely,  though 
trembling,  “ to  fly  from  such  a lover*  There  was  a poor 
\voraan  died  here  but  a little  while  ago,  scores  of  years 
older  than  lam,  whom  I found  by  chance,  lying  on  the 
wet  earth.  You  may  have  heard  some  account  of  her 
I think  I have,”  he  answered,  if  her  name  was 
Migden.” 

‘‘  Her  name  was  Higden.  Though  she  was  so  weak 
and  old,  she  kept  true  to  one  purpose  to  the  very  last. 
Even  at  the  very  last,  she  made  me  promise  that  her 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


101 


purpose  should  be  kept  to,  after  she  was  dead,  so  bettled 
was  her  determination.  What  she  did,  I can  do.  Mr. 
Wrayburn,  if  I believed— but  I'do  not  believe — that  you 
could  be  so  cruel  to  me  as  to  drive  me  from  place  to 
place  to  wear  me  out,  you  should  drive  me  to  death  and 
not  do  it.^^ 

He  looked  full  at  her  handsome  face,  and  in  his  own 
handsome  face  there  was  a light  of  blended  admiration, 
anger,  and  reproach,  which  she — who  loved  him  so  in  se- 
cret— whose  heart  had  long  been  so  full,  ,and  he  the 
cause  of  its  overflowing — drooped  before.  She  tried  hard 
to  retain  her  firmness,  but  he  saw’  it  melting  away  under 
his  eyes.  In  the  moment  of  its  dissolution,  and  of  his 
first  full  knowledge  of  his  influence  upon  her,  she  dropped, 
and  he  caught  her  on  his  arm. 

Lizzie  ! Eest  so  a moment.  Answer  what  I ask 
you.  If  I had  not  been  what  you  call  removed  from  you 
and  cut  off  from  you,  would  you  have  made  this  appeal 
to  me  to  leave  you 

^‘I  don’t  know,  I don’t  know.  Don’t  ask  me,  Mr. 
Wrayburn.  Let  me  go  back.” 

I swear  to  you,  Lizzie,  you  shall  go  directly.  I 
swear  to  you,  you  shall  go  alone.  I’ll  not  accompany 
you.  I’ll  not  follow  you,  if  you  will  reply.” 

How  can  I,  Mr.  Wrayburn  ? How  can  I tell  you 
what  I should  have  done  if  you  had  not  been  wdiat  you 
are  ?” 

“ If  I had  not  been  what  you  make  me  out  to  be,”  he 
struck  in,  skillfully  changing  the  form  of  words,  “w'ould 
you  still  have  hated  me  ?” 

0,  Mr.  Wrayburn,”  she  replied  appealingly,  and 
w’eeping,  you  know  me  better  than  to  think  I do  !” 


102 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


*•  If  I had  not  been  ^vliat  you  make  me  out  to  be, 
Lizzie,  would  you  still  have  been  indifferent  to  me 

^‘0,  Mr.  Wrnyburn,’^  she  answered  as  before,  you 
know  me  better  than  that  too 

There  was  something  in  the  attitude  of  her  whole 
figure  as  he  supported  it,  and  she  hung  her  head,  whicli 
besought  liim  to  be  merciful  and  not  force  her  to  disclose 
her  heart.  He  was  not  merciful  with  her,  and  he  made 
her  do  it. 

“ If  I know  you  better  than  quite  to  believe  (unfor* 
lunate  dog  that  I am  !)  that  you  hate  me,  or  even  that 
you  are  wholly  indifferent  to  me,  Lizzie,  let  me  know  so 
much  more  from  yourself  before  we  separate.  Let  me 
know  how  you  would  have  dealt  with  me  if  you  had  re- 
garded me  as  being  what  you  would  have  considered  on 
equal  terms  with  you.’^ 

''  It  is  impossible,  Mr.  Wrayburn.  How  can  I think  of 
you  as  being  on  equal  terms  with  me  ? If  my  mind  could 
put  you  on  equal  terms  with  me,  you  could  not  be  your- 
self. How  could  I remember,  then,  the  night  when  I first 
saw  you,  and  when  I went  out  of  the  room  because  you 
looked  at  me  so  attentively  ? Or,  the  night  that  passed 
into  the  morning  when  you  broke  to  me  that  my  father 
was  dead  ? Or,  the  nights  when  you  used  to  come  to  see 
me  at  my  next  home  ? Or,  your  having  known  how  un- 
instructed I was,  and  having  caused  me  to  be  taught  bet- 
ter ? Or,  my  having  so  looked  up  to  you  and  wondered 
at  you,  and  at  first  thought  you  so  good  to  be  at  all 
mindful  of  me 

“ Only  ‘ at  first  ’ thought  me  so  good,  Lizzie  ? What 
did  you  think  me  after  ‘ at  first  V So  bad 

“ I don’t  say  that.  I don’t  mean  that.  But  after  the 


OUE  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


103 


first  wonder' and  pleasure  of  being  noticed  by  one  so  dif- 
ferent from  any  one  who  had  ever  spoken  to  me,  I began 
to  feel  that  it  might  have  been  better  if  I had  never  seen 
yoii/^ 

Because  you  were  so  difTerent,’’  she  answered  in  a 
lower  voice.  “ Because  it  was  so  endless,  so  hopeless. 
Spare  me 

“ Did  you  think  for  me  at  all,  Lizzie,  he  asked  V'  as  if 
he  were  a little  vStung.  ^ 

“ Not  much,  Mr.  Wray  burn.  Not  much  until  to-night.” 

Will  you  tell  me  why?” 

I never  supposed  until  to-night  that  you  needed  to 
be  thought  for.  But  if  you  do  need  to  be  ; if  you  do 
truly  feel  at  lieart  that  you  have  indeed  been  toward  me 
what  you  have  called  yourself  to-night,  and  that  there  is 
nothing  for  us  in  this  life  but  separation  ; then  Heaven 
help  you,  and  Heaven  bless  you  !” 

The  purity  with  which  in  these  words  slie  expressed 
something  of  her  own  love  and  her  own  suffering,  made  a 
deep  impression  on  him  for  the  passing  time.  He  held 
her,  almost  as  if  she  were  sanctified  to  him  by  death,  and 
kissed  her,  once,  almost  as  he  might  have  kissed  the 
dead.  , ^ 

“ 1 promised  that  I would  not  accompany  you,  nor 
follow  you.  Shall  1 keep  you  in  view  ? You  have  been 
agitated,  and  it^s  growing  dark.”’ 

‘‘I  am  used  to  be  out  alone  at  this  hour,  and  I en- 
treat you  not  to  do  so.” 

I promise.  I can  bring  myself  to  promise  nothing 
more  to-night,  Lizzie,  except  that  I will  try  what  I 
can  do.” 


104 


OVJt  MUTUAL  FKIEKI>, 


''  There  is  but  one  means,  Mr.  Wrayburn,  of  sparing 
yourself  and  of  sparing  me,  every  way.  Leave  this  neigh- 
borhood to-morrow  morning/’ 

I will  try.’’ 

As  he  spoke  the  words  in  a grave  voice,  she  put  her 
liand  in  his,  removed  it,  and  went  away  by  the  river-side. 

“Now,  could  Mortimer  believe  tiiis  ?”  murmured  Eu- 
gene, still  remaining,  after  a while  where  she  had  left 
him.  “ Can  I even  believe  it  myself?” 

He  referred  to  the  circumstance  that  there  were  tears 
upon  his  hand,  as  he  stood  covering  his  eyes.  “ A most 
ridiculous  position  this  to  be  found  out  in  !”  was  his  next 
thought.  And  his  next  struck  its  root  in  a little  rising 
resentment  against  the  cause  of  the  ‘tears. 

“ Yet  I have  gained  a wonderful  pow'er  over  her,  too, 
let  her  be  as  much  in  earnest  as  she  will  !” 

The  reflection  brought  back  the  yielding  of  her  face 
and  form  as  she  had  drooped  under  his  gaze.  Contem- 
plating the  reproduction,  he  seemed  to  see,  for  the  second 
time,  in  the  appeal  and  in  the  confession  of  \veakness,  a 
little  fear. 

And  she  loves  me.  And  so  earnest  a character  must 
be  very  earnest  in  that  passion.  She  can  not  choose  for 
herself  to  be  strong  in  this  fancy,  wavering  in  that  and 
weak  in  the  other.  She  must  go  through  with  her  na- 
ture as  I must  go  through  with  mine.  If  mine  exacts 
its  pains  and  penalties  all  round,  so  must  hers,  I 
suppose.” 

Pursuing  the  enquiry  into  his  own  nature,  he  thought, 
“Now,  iflmarriecl  her.  If,  outfacing  the  absurdity  of 
the  situation  in  correspondence  with  M.  R.  F.,  I aston- 
ished M.  R.  F.  to  the  utmost  extent  of  bis  respected 


OUB  MUTUAL  FBlEKD. 


105 


powers,  by  informing  him  that  I had  married  lier,  how 
would  M.  E.  P.  reason  with  the  legal  mind?  'You 
wouldn't  marry  for  some  money  and  some  station,  because 
you  Avere  frightfully  likely  to  become  bored.  Are  you 
less  frightfully  likely  to  become  bored,  marrying  for  no 
money  and  no  station  ? Are  you  sure  of  yourself?’  Le- 
gal mind,  in  spite  of  forensic  protestations,  must  secretly 
admit,  ' Good  reasoning  on  the  part  of  M.  E.  F.  Not 
sure  of  myself*’  ” 

In  the  very  act  of  calling  this  tone  of  levity  to  his  aid 
he  felt  it  to  be  profligate  and  worthless,  and  asserted  her 
against  it. 

" And  yet,”  said  Eugene,  “ I should  like  to  see  the 
fellow  (Mortimer  excepted)  who  would  undertake  to  tell 
me  that  this  was  not  a real  sentiment  on  my  part,  Avon 
Out  of  me  by  her  beauty  and  her  Avorth,  in  spite  of  my- 
self, and  that  I Avould  not  be  true  to  her.  I should  par- 
ticularly like  to  see  the  felloAV  to-night  Avho  Avould  tell  me 
so,  or  Avho  would  tell  me  any  thing  that  could  be  con- 
strued to  her  disadvantage  ; for  I am  Avearily  out  of 
sorts  Avith  one  Wray  burn  who  cuts  a sorry  figure,  and  I 
would  far  rather  be  out  of  sorts  with  somebody  else. 
‘ Eugene,  Eugene,  Eugene,  this  is  a bad  business.’  Ah  I 
So  go  the  Mortimer  Light  wood  bells,  and  they  sound 
melancholy  to-night.” 

Strolling  on,  he  thouglit  of  something  else  to  take  him- 
self to  task  for.  " Where  is  the  analogy.  Brute  Beast,” 
he  said  impatiently,  “ between  a woman  whom  your  father 
coolly  finds  out  for  you,  and  a woman  whom  you  have 
iound  out  for  yourself,  and  have  ever  drifted  after  with 
more  and  more  of  constancy  since  you  first  set  eyes  upon 
her  ? Ass  ! Can  you  reason  no  better  than  that  ?” 


106 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


But  again  he  subsided  into  a reminiscence  of  his  first 
full  knowledge  of  his  power  just  now,  and  of  her  disclo- 
sure of  her  heart.  To  try  no  more  to  go  away,  and  to 
try  lier  again,  was  the  reckless  conclusion  it  turned  up- 
permost. And  yet  again,  “ Eugene,  Eugene,  Eugene, 
this  is  a bad  business  1^^  And,  I wish  I could  stop  the 
Lightwood  peal,  for  it  sounds  like  a knell/^ 

Looking  above,  he  found  that  the  young  moon  was  up, 
and  that  the  stars  were  beginning  to  sliine  in  the  sky 
from  which  the  tones  of  red  and  yellow  were  flickering 
out  in  favor  of  the  calm  blue  of  a summer  night.  He 
was  still  by  the  riverside.  Turning  suddenly  he  met  a 
man  so  close  upon  him  that  Eugene,  surprised,  stepped 
back  to  avoid  a collision.  The  man  carried  something 
over  his  shoulder  which  might  have  been  a broken  oar, 
or  spar,  or  bar,  and  took  no  notice  of  him,  but  passed  on. 

Halloa,  friend  said  Eugene,  calling  after  him,  are 
you  blind 

The  man  made  no  reply,  but  went  his  way. 

Eugene  Wray  burn  went  the  opposite  way,  with  his 
hands  behind  him  and  his  purpose  in  his  thoughts.  He 
passed  the  sheep,  and  passed  the  gate,  and  came  within 
hearing  of  the  village  sounds,  and  came  to  the  bridge. 
The  inn  where  he  staid,  like  the  village  and  the  Mill, 
was  not  across  the  river,  but  on  that  side  of  the  stream 
on  which  he  walked.  However,  knowing  the  rushy  bank 
and  the  back  water  on  the  other  side  to  be  a retired 
place,  and  feeling  out  of  humor  for  noise  or  company,  he 
crossed  the  bridge  and  sauntered  on  : looking  up  at  the 
stars  as  they  seemed  one  by  one  to  be  kindled  in  the  sky, 
and  looking  down  at  the  river  as  the  same  stars  seemed 
to  be  kindled  deep  in  the  water.  A landing-place,  over- 


OUR  MU^rOAL  FFvIEKD.  107 

shadowed  by  a willow,  and  a pleasure-boat  lying  moored 
there  among  some  stakes,  caught  bis  eye  as  he  passed 
along.  The  spot  w^as  in  such  dark  shadow  that  he  paused 
to  make  out  what  was  there,  and  then  passed  on 
again. 

The  rippling  of  the  river  seemed  to  cause  a correspon- 
dent stir  ill  his  uneasy  reflections.  He  would  have  laid 
them  asleep  if  he  could,  but  they  w’’ere  in  movement,  like 
the  stream,  and  all  tending  one  w^ay  with  a strong  cur- 
rent. As  the  ripple  under  the  moon  broke  unexpectedly 
now  and  then,  and  palely  flashed  in  a new  shape  and  wdth 
a new  sound,  so  part  of  his  thouglits  started,  unbidden, 
from  tlie  rest,  and  revealed  their  wickedness.  Out  of 
the  question  to  marry  her,’^  said  Eugene,  ^^and  out  of  the 
question  to  leave  her.  The  crisis  ! 

He  had  sauntered  far  enough.  Before  turning  to  re- 
trace his  steps  lie  stopped  upon  the  margin  to  look  down 
at  the  reflected  night.  In  an  instant,  with  a dreadful 
crash,  the  reflected  night  turned  crooked,  flames  shot 
jaggedly  across  the  air,  and  the  moon  and  stars  came 
bursting  from  the  sky. 

Was  he  struck  by  lightning  ? With  some  incoherent, 
half  formed  thought  to  that  effect,  he  turned  under  the 
blow's  that  were  blinding  him  and  mashing  his  life,  and 
closed  with  a murderer,  whom  he  caught  by  a red  necker- 
chief— unless  the  raining  down  of  his  own  blood  gave  it 
that  hue. 

Eugene  wms  light,  active  and  expert  ; but  his  arms 
were  broken,  or  he  wuis  paralyzed,  and  could  do  no  more 
than  hang  on  to  the  man,  with  his  head  swung  back,  so 
that  he  could  see  nothing  but  the  heaving  sky.  After 
dragging  at  the  assailant,  he  fell  on  the  bank  with  him, 


108 


OUFw  HUTUAL  FKIEKD. 


and  then  there  was  another  great  crash,  and  then  a splash, 
and  nil  was  done. 

Lizzie  TTexara,  too,  'had  avoided  the  noise,  and  the  Sa- 
turday inoveinent  of  people  in  the  straggling  street,  and 
cliose  to  walk  alone  by  the  water  until  her  tears  should 
be  dry,  and  she  could  so  compose  herself  as  to  escape  re- 
mark upon  her  looking  ill  or  unhappy  oa  going  home. 
The  peaceful  serenity  of  tlie  hour  and  place,  having  no 
reproaches  or  evil  intentions  witliin  her  breast  to  contend 
against,  sank  healingly  into  its  dept’ns.  She  had  medh 
tated  and  taken  coanfort.  She,  too,  was  turning  home- 
ward when  she  heard  a strange  sound. 

It  started  her,  for  it  was  like  a sound  of  blows.  She 
stood  still  and  listened.  It  sickened  her,  for  blows  foil 
heavily  and  cruelly  on  the  quiet  of  the  night.  As  she 
listened,  undecided,  all  was  silent.  As  she  yet  listened 
she  heard  a faint  groan  and  a fall  into  the  river. 

•Her  old  bold  life  and  habit  instantly  inspired  her. 
^Without  vain  waste  of  breath  in  crying  for  help  where 
there  were  none  to  hear,  she  ran  toward  the  spot  from 
which  the  sounds  had  come.  It  lay  between  her  and 
the  bridge,  but  it  was  more  removed  from  her  than 
she  had  thought ; the  night  being  so  very  quiet,  and 
sound  traveling  far  with  the  help  of  water. 

At  length  she  reached  a part  of  the  green  bank 
much  and  newly  trodden,  where  there  lay  some  broken 
splintered  pieces  of  wood  and  some  torn  fragments  of 
clothes.  Stooping,  she  saw  that  the  grass  was  bloody. 
Following  the  drops  and  smears,  she  saw  that  the 
w^atery  margin  of  the  bank  wms  bloody.  Following 
the  current  with  her  eyes,  she  saw  a bloody  face  turned 
up  toward  the  moon  and  drifting  away. 


OUK  >rUTUAI. 


109 

Now  merciful  Heaven  be  thanked  for  that  old  time, 
and  grant,  0 Blessed  Lord,  that  through  thy  wonder- 
ful workings  it  may  turn  io  good  at  last  ! To  whom- 
vsoever  the  drifting  face  belong's,  be  it  mards  or  wo- 
man’s, help  my  humble  hands,  Lord  God,  to  raise  it 
from  death  and  restore  it  to  some  one  to  whom  it  must 
be  dear  ! 

It  was  thought,  fervently  thought,  but  not  for  a mo- 
ment did  the  pra}^er  check  her.«  She  was  away  before 
it  welled  up  in  her  mind,  away,  swift  and  true,  yet 
steady  above  all— for  without  steadiness  it  could 
never  be  done — to  the  landing-place  under  the  willow- 
tree,  where  she  also  had  seen  the  boat  lying  moored 
among  the  stakes. 

A sure  touch  of  her  old  practiced  hand,  a sure  step 
of  her  old  practiced  foot,  a sure  light  balance  of  her 
body,  and  she  was  in  the  boat.  A quick  glance  of  her 
practiced  eye  jshovred  her,  even  through  the  deep  dark 
shadow,  the  sculls  in  a rack  against  the  red-brick 
garden-wall.  Another  moment  and  she  had  cast  off 
(taking  the  line  with  her),  and  the  boat  had  shot  out 
into  the  moonlight,  and  she  was  rowing  down  the 
stream  as  never  other  woman  rowed  on  English 
water. 

Intently  over  her  shoulder,  without  slackening  speed, 
she  looked  ahead  for  the  driving  face.  She  passed 
the  scene  of  the  struggle — yonder  it  was,  on  her  left, 
well  over  the  boat’s  stern — she  passed  on  her  right  the 
end  of  the  village  street,  a hilly  street  that  almost 
dipped  into  the  river ; its  sounds  were  growing  faint 
again,  and  she  slackened  ; looking  as  the  boat  drove 
every  where,  every  where  for  the  floating  face. 


no 


OUJR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


She  merely  kept  the  boat  before  the  stream  now, 
and  rested  on  her  oars,  knowing  well  that  if  the  face 
were  not  soon  visible  it  had  gone  down,  and  she  would 
overshoot  it.  An  untrained  sight  would  never  have 
seen  by  the  moonlight  what  she  saw  at  the  length  of 
a few  strokes  astern.  She  saw  the  drowning  figure 
rise  to  the  surface,  slightly  struggle,  and  as  if  by  in- 
stinct turn  over  on  its  back  to  float.  Just  so  had  she 
first  dimly  seen  the  face  which  she  now  dimly  saw 
again. 

Firm  of  look  and  firm  of  purpose,  she  intently  watch- 
ed its  coming  on,  until  it  was  very  near  ; then,  with  a 
touch,  unshipped  her  sculls,  and  crept  aft  in  the  boat, 
between  kneeling  and  crouching.  Once,  she  let  the 
body  evade  her,  not  being  sure  of  her  grasp.  Twice, 
and  she  had  seized  it  by  its  bloody  hair. 

It  was  insensible,  if  not  virtually  dead  ; it  was  mu- 
tilated, and  streaked  the  water  all  about  it  with  dark 
red  streaks.  As  it  could  not  help  itself,  it  was  impos- 
sible for  her  to  get  it  on  board.  She  bent  over  the 
stern  to  secure  it  with  the  line,  and  then  the  river  and 
its  shores  rang  to  the  terrible  cry  she  uttered. 

But,  as  if  possessed  by  supernatural  spirit  and 
strength,  she  lashed  it  safe,  resumed  her  seat,  and 
rowed  in,  desperately,  for  the  nearest  shallow  water 
where  she  might  run  the  boat  aground.  Desperately', 
but  not  wildly,  for  she  knew  that  if  she  lost  distiuct- 
ness  of  intention  all  was  lost  and  gone. 

She  ran  the  boat  ashore,  went  into  the  water,  re- 
leased him  from  the  line,  and  by  main  strength  lifted 
him  in  her  arms  and  laid  him  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 
He  had  fearful  wounds  upon  him,  and  she  bound  them 


Ill 


OUR  MUTUAL  J-RIEKD. 

Up  ^ith  her  dress  torn  into  strips.  Else,  supposing 
him  to  be  still  alive,  she  foresaw  that  he  must  bleed  to 
death  before  be  could  be  landed  at  the  inn,  which  was 
the  nearest  place  for  succor* 

This  done  very  rapidly,  she  kissed  his  disfigured 
forehead,  looked  up  in  anguish  to  the  stars,  and  bless- 
ed him  and  forgave  him,  “ if  she  had  any  thing  to  for- 
give.’’ It  was  only  in  that  instant  that  she  thought  of 
herself,  and  then  she  thought  of  herself  only  for  him. 

Now,  merciful  Heaven  be  thanked  for  that  old  time, 
enabling  me,  without  a wasted  moment,  to  have  got 
the  boat  afloat  again,  and  to  row  back  against  the 
stream  ! And  grant,  0 Blessed  Lord  God,  that  through 
poor  me  lie  may  be  raised  from  death,  and  preserved 
to  some  one  else  to  whom  he  may  be  dear  one  day, 
though  never  dearer  than  to  me  ! 

She  rowed  hard — rowed  desperately,  but  never  wild- 
ly— and  seldom  removed  her  eyes  from  him  in  the  bot- 
tom of  the  boat.  She  had  so  laid  him  there,  as  that 
she  might  see  his  disfigured  face  ; it  was  so  much  dis- 
figured that  lies  mother  might  have  covered  it,  but  it 
was  above  and  beyond  disfigurement  in  her  eyes. 

The  boat  touched  the  edge  of  the  patch  of  inn  lawn, 
sloping  gently  to  the  water.  There  were  lights  iii  the 
windows,  but  there  chanced  to  be  no  one  out  of  doors. 
She  made  the  boat  fast,  and  again  by  main  strength 
took  him  up,  and  never  laid  him  down  until  she  laid 
him  down  in  the  house. 

Surgeons  were  sent  for,  and  she  sat  supporting  his 
head.  She  had  oftentimes  heard  in  days  that  were 
gone  how  doctors  would  lift  the  hand  of  an  insensible 
wounded  person,  and  would  drop  it  if  the  person  were 


112 


OUB  MUTUAL  FRIEKU. 


dead.  She  waited  for  the  awful  moment  when  the 
doctors  might  lift  this  hand,  all  broken  and  bruised,  and 
let  it  fall. 

The  first  of  the  sui’geons  came,  and  asked,  before 
proceeding  to  his  examination,  “ Who  brought  him 
in 

“ I brought  him  in,  Sir,^^  answered  Lizzie,  at  whom  all 
present  looked. 

You,  mv  dear  You  could  not  lift,  far  less  carry, 
this  weight/^ 

*•1  think  I could  not,  at  another  time,  Sir;  but  I 
am  sure  I did.” 

The  surgeon  looked  at  her  with  great  attention,  and 
with  some  compassion.  Having  with  a grave  face 
touched  the  wounds  upon  the  head,  and  the  broken 
arms,  he  took  the  hand. 

0 I would  he  let  it  drop  ? 

He  appeared  irresolute.  He  did  not  retain  it, 
but  laid  it  gently  down,  took  a candle,  looked  more 
closely  at  the  injuries  on  the  head,  and  at  the  pupils 
of  the  eyes.  That  done,  he  replaced  the  candle  and 
took  the  hand  again.  Another  surgeon  then  coming 
in,  the  two  exchanged  a whisper,  and  the  second  took 
the  hand.  Neither  did  he  let  it  fall  at  once,  but  kept 
it  for  a while  and  laid  it  gently  down. 

Attend  to  the  poor  girl,”  said  the  first  surg'eon 
then.  “ She  is  quite  unconscious.  She  sees  nothing 
and  hears  nothing.  All  the  better  for  her  ! DoriT 
rouse  her,  if  you  can  help  it  ; only  move  her.  Poor 
girl,  poor  girl  I She  must  be  amazingly  strong  of 
heart,  but  it  is  much  to  be  feared  that  she  has  set  her 
heart  upon  the  dead.  Be  gentle  with  her.” 


OtTE  MUTUAL  FFJEND. 


113 


CHAPTER  YIT. 

BETTER  TO  BS  ABEL  TIIAK  CAlN. 

Day  was  breaking  at  Plash  water  Weir  Mill  Lock. 
Stars  were  yet  visible,  but  there  was  dull  light  in  the 
east  that  was  nor  the  light  of  night.  The  moon  had 
gone  down,  and  a mist  crept  along  the  banks  of  the 
river,  seen  through  which  the  trees  were  the  ghosts 
of  trees,  and  the  water  was  the  ghost  of  water.  This 
earth  looked  spectral,  and  so  did  the  pale  stars : while 
the  cold  eastern  glare,  expressionless  as  to  heat  or 
color,  wnth  the  eye  of  the  firmament  quenched,  might 
have  been  likened  to  the  stare  of  the  dead. 

Perhaps  it  was  so  likened  by  the  lonely  Bargeman, 
standing  on  the  brink  of  the  lock.  For  certain,  Brad* 
ley  Headstone  looked  that  w\ay,  when  a chill  air  came 
up,  and  when  it  passed  on  murmuring,  as  if  it  whisper- 
ed something  that  made  the  phantom  trees  and  water 
tremble — or  threaten — for  fancy  might  have  made  it 
either. . 

He  turned  a\vay,  and  tried  the  Lock-house  door.  It 
Vvuis  fastened  on  the  inside. 

“ Is  he  afraid  of  me  V’  he  murmured,  knocking. 

Rogue  Biderhood  was  soon  roused,  and  soon  undrew 
the  bolt  and  let  him  in. 

Y/hy,  T’otherest,  I thought  you  had  been  and  got 
lo£t  1 Two  nights  away  1 I a’most  believed  as  yoifd 


114 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIMD. 


giv’  me  the  slip,  and  I had  as  good  as  half  a mind  for 
to  advertise  you  in  the  newspapers  to  come  for'ard/’ 
Bi-adlev's  face  turned  so  dark  on  this  hint  that 
Riderhood  deemed  it  expedient  to  soften  it  into  a com- 
pliment. 

But  not  yon,  governor,  not  you,’^  ho  went  on,  stolid- 
ly shaking  his  head.  For  what  did  I say  to  myself 
after  having  amused  myself  with  that  there  stretch  of 
a comic  idea,  as  a sort  of  a playful  game?  Why,  I 
says  to  myself,  ^ He^s  a man  o^  honor.’  Thai’s  what  I 
says  to  myself.  ‘ He’s  a man  o’  double  honor.’  *’ 

Yery  remarkably,  Riderhood  put  no  question  to  him. 
He  had  looked  at  him  on  opening  the  door,  and  he  now 
looked  at  him  again  (stealthily  this  time),  and  the  result 
of  his  looking  was,  that  he  asked  him  no  question. 

''  You’ll  be  for  another  forty  on  ’em,  governor,  as  I 
judges,  afore  you  turns  your  mind  to  breakfast,”  said 
Riderliood,  when  his  visitor  sat  down,  resting  his  chin  on 
his  hand,  witli  bis  eyes  on  the  ground.  And  very  re- 
markably again  : Riderhood  feigned  to  set  the  scanty 
furniture  in  order,  while  he  spoke,  to  have  a show  of 
reason  for  not  looking  at  him. 

“ Yes,  I had  better  sleep,  I think,”  said  Bradley,  with- 
out changing  his  position. 

“I  myself  sliould  recommend  it,  governor,”  assented 
Riderhood.  Might  you  be  anyways  dry  ?” 

“ Yes.  I should  like  a drink,”  said  Bradley  ; but  with- 
out appearing  to  attend  much. 

Mr.  Riderhood  got  out  his  bottle,  and  fetched  bis  jugful 
of  water,  and  a.diniuistered  a potation.  Then  he  shook 
the  coverlet  of  his  bed  and  spread  it  smooth,  and  Bradley 
stretched  himself  upon  it  in  the  clothes  he  wore.  Mr. 


OUJa  HOTUAIi  FE.IEND, 


115 


Riderhood  poetically  remarking  that  he  would  pick  the 
bones  of  his  night’s  rest,  in  his  wooden  chair,  sat  in  the 
window  as  before  ; but,  as  before,  watched  the  sleeper 
narrowly  until  he  was  very  sound  asleep.  Then  he  rose 
and  looked  at  him  close,  in  the  bright  daylight,  on  every 
side,  with  great  minuteness.  He  went  out  to  his  Lock 
to  sum  up  what  he  had  seen. 

One  of  his  sleeves  is  tore  right  away  below  the  clber, 
and  the  t’other’s  had  a good  rip  at  the  shoulder.  He’s 
been  hung  on  to,  pretty  tight,  for  his  shirt’s  all  tore  out 
of  the  neck  gathers.  He’s  been  in  the  grass,  and  he’s 
been  in  the  water.  And  he’s  spotted,  and  I know  with 
what,  and  with  wliose.  Hooroar  !” 

Bradley  slept  long.  Early  in  the  afternoon  a barge 
came  down.  Other  barges  had  passed  through,  both 
ways,  before  it  ; but  the  Lock-keeper  hailed  only  this 
particular  barge  for  news,  as  if  he  had  made  a time  cal- 
culation with  some  nicety.  The  men  on  board  told  him 
a piece  of  news,  and  there  was  a lingering  on  their  part 
to  enlarge  upon  it. 

Twelve  hours  had  intervened  since  Bradley’s  lying 
down,  when  he  got  up.  Not  that  I swaller  it,”  said 
Riderhood,  squinting  at  his  Lock,  when  he  saw  Bradley 
coming  out  of  the  house,  as  you’ve'  been  a sleeping  all 
the  time,  old  boy  !” 

Bradley  came  to  him,  sitting  on  his  wooden  lever,  and 
asked  what  o’clock  it  was  ? Riderhood  told  him  it  was 
between  two  and  three. 

When  are  you  relieved  ?”  asked  Bradley. 

“ Day  arter  to-morrow,  governor.” 

Not  sooner  ?” 

‘‘Not  a inch  sooner,  governor.” 


ii6 


OUIi  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


On  both  sides  importance  seemed  attached  to  this 
question  of  relief.  Riderliood  quite  petted  his  reply  ; 
saying  a second  time,  and  prolonging  a negative  roll  of 
his  head,  “ n — n — not  a inch  sooner,  governor/^ 

Did  I tell  you  I was  going  on  to-night  asked 
Bradley. 

‘'No,  governor,”  returned  Riderhood,  in  a cheerful, 
affable,  and  conversational  manner,  “ you  did  not  tell  me 
so.  But  most  like  you  meant  to  it  and  forgot  to  it.  How, 
other  ways,  could  a doubt  have  come  into  your  head  about 
it,  governor 

“ As  the  sun  goes  down  I intend  to  go  on,”  said 
Bradley. 

“ So  much  the  more  necessary  is  a Peck,”  returned 
Riderhood.  “ Come  in  and  have  it,  T^otherest.” 

The  formality  of  spreading  a tablecloth  not  being  ob- 
served in  Mr.  Riderhood^s  establishment,  the  serving  of 
the  “peck”  was  the  affair  of  a moment  ; it  merely  con- 
sisting in  the  handing  down  of  a capacious  baking  dish 
with  three-fourths  of  an  immense  meat  pie  in  it,  and 
the  production  of  two  pocket-knives,  an  earthenware 
mug,  and  a large  brown  bottle  of  beer. 

Both  ate  and  drank,  but  Riderhood  much  the  more 
abundantly.  In  lieu  of  plates,  that  honest  man  cut  two 
triangular  pieces  from  the  thick  crust  of  the  pie,  and  laid 
them,  inside  uppermost,  upon  the  table  ; the  one  before 
iiimself,  and  the  other  before  his  gu^st.  Upon  these  plat- 
ters he  placed  two  goodly  portions  of  the  contents  of  the 
pie,  thus  imparting  the  unusual  interest  to  tiie  entertain- 
ment that  each  partaker  scooped  out  the  inside  of  his 
-plate,  and  consumed  it  with  his  other  fare,  besides  having 
the  sport  of  pursuing  the  clots  of  congealed  gravy  over 


OCR  MUTUAL  FRIEND* 


117 


tbc  plain  of  the  table,  and  successfully  taking  them  into 
his  mouth  at  last  from  the  blade  of  his  knife,  in  case  of 
their  not  first  sliding  off  it. 

Bradley  Headstone  was  so  remarkably  awkward  at 
these  exercises  that  the  Rogue  observed  it. 

“ Look  out,  Potherest  1’^  he  cried,  yoffll  cut  your 
hand  1” 

But  the  caution  came  too  late,  for  Bradley  gashed  it 
at  the  instant.  And,  what  was  more  unlucky,  in  asking 
Riderhood  to  tie  it  up,  and  in  standing  close  to  him  for 
the  purpose,  he  shook  his  hand  under  the  smart  of  the 
wound,  and  shook  blood  over  Riderhood’s  dress. 

When  dinner  was  done,  and  when  what  remained  of 
the  platters,  and  ^vhat  remained  of  the  congealed  gravy 
had  been  put  back  into  what  remained  of  the  pie,  which 
served  as  an  economical  investment  for  all  miscellaneous 
savings,  Riderhood  filled  the  mug  with  beer  and  took  a 
long  drink.  And  now  he  did  look  at  Bradley,  and  with 
an  evil  eye. 

Potherest  he  said,  hoarsely,  as  he  bent  across  the 
table  to  touch  his  arm.  “ The  news  has  gone  down  the 
river  afore  you.’^ 

What  news 

Who  do  you  think,”  said  Riderhood,  with  a hitch 
of  his  head,  as  if  he  disdainfully  jerked  the  feint  away, 
“ picked  up  the  body  ? Guess.” 

“ I am  not  good  at  guessing  anything.” 

She  did.  Hooroar  ! You  had  him  there  agin.  She 
did.” 

The  convulsive  twitching  of  Bradley  Headstone's  face, 
and  the  sudden  hot  humor  that  broke  out  upon  it,  showed 
bow  grimly  the  intelligence  touched  him.  But  he  said 


118 


OUK  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


not  a single  word,  good  or  bad.  He  only  smiled  in  a 
lowering  manner,  and  got  up  and  stood  leaning  at  tlie 
windovv,  looking  through  it.  Riderhood  followed  him 
with  his  eves.  Riderhood  cast  down  his  eyes  on  his  own 
besprinkled  cloths.  Riderhood  began  to  have  an  air  of 
being  better  at  a guess  than  Bradley  owned  to  being. 

I have  been  so  long  in  want  of  rest,’^  said  the  school- 
master, that  with  your  leave  Til  lie  down  again. 

And  welcome,  T^otherest  was  the  hospitable  an- 
swer of  his  host.  He  had  laid  himself  down  without 
waiting  for  it,  and  he  remained  upon  the  bed  until  the 
sun  was  low.  When  he  arose  and  came  out  to  resume 
his  journey  he  found  his  host  waiting  for  him  on  the 
grass  by  the  towering  path  outside  the  door. 

Whenever  it  may  be  necessary  that  you  and  I should 
have  any  further  communication  together,’^  said  Bradley, 

I wdll  come  back.  Good-night 

Well,  since  no  better  can  be,”  said  Riderhood,  turning 
on  his  heel,  Good-night  V’  But  he  turned  again  as  the 
other  set  forth,  and  added,  under  his  breath,  looking  after 
him  with  a leer  : “You  wouldn’t  be  let  to  go  like  that 
if  my  Relief  warn’t  as  good  as  come.  I'll  catch  you  up 
in  a mile.” 

In  a word,  his  real  time  of  relief  being  that  evening  at 
sunset,  his  mate  came  lounging  in  within  a quarter  of 
an  hour.  Not  staying  to  fill  np  the  utmost  margin  of 
his  time,  but  borrowing  an  hour  or  so,  to  be  repaid  again 
when  he  should  relievo  his  reliever,  Riderhood  straight- 
way followed  on  the  track  of  Bradley  Head-stone. 

He  was  a bf  Ucr  follower  than  Bradley.  It  had  been 
the  calling  of  Ins  life  to  slink  and  skulk  and  dog  and 
waylay,  and  he  knew  his  calling  well.  He  eliected  such 


OTTR  MUTUAL  FRIFJVI'D* 


119 


a foroe-cl  march  on  leaving  the  Lock  House  that  he  was 
close  lip  witli  liim — that  is  to  say,  as  close  up  with  liim 
as  he  deemed  it  convenient  to  be — before  another  Lock 
was  passed.  His  man  looked  back  pretty  often  as  ho 
went,  blit  got  no  hint  of  him.  He  knew  how  to  take 
advantage  of  the  ground^  and  where  to  put  the  hedge 
between  them,  and  where  the  wall,  and  when  to  duck, 
and  when  to  drop,  and  had  a thousand  aids  beyond  the 
doomed  Bradiey^s  slow  conception. 

But  all  his  arts  were  brought  to  a stand-still,  like  him- 
self, when  Bradley,  turning  into  a green  lane  or  riding 
by  the  river-side-r-^a  solitary  spot  run  wild  in  nettles, 
briers,  and  brambles,  and  encumbered  with  the  scathed 
trunks  of  a whole  hedgerow  of  felled  trees,  on  the  out- 
skirts of  a little  wood — began  stepping  on  these  trunks 
and  dropping  down  among  them  and  stepping  on  them 
again,  apparently  as  a schoolboy  might  have  done, 
but  assuredly  with  no  school-boy  purpose,  or  waut  of 
purpose; 

“ What  are  you  up  to  muttered  Eiderhood,  down 
in  the  ditch,  and  holding  the  liedge  a little  open  with 
both  hands.  Aijd  soon  his  actions  made  a most  extra- 
ordinary reply.  By  George  and  the  Draggin  cried 
Rideriiood,  “ if  he  ain^t  a-goiug  to  bathe  !” 

He  had  passed  back,  on  and  among  the  trunks  of  trees 
again,  and  he  had  passed  on  to  the  water-side  and  had 
begun  undressing  on  the  grass.  For  a moment  it  had  a 
suspicious  look  of  suicide,  arranged  to  counterfeit  accb 
dent.  “ But  }uu  wouldif  t have  fetched  a bundle  under 
your  arm,  from  among  that  timber,  if  such  was  your 
game  said  Eiderhood.  Nevertheless  it  was  a relief  to 
him  when  the  bather  after  a plunge  and  a few  strokes 


120 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


came  out.  ''  For  I shouldn’t.’’  he  said,  in  a feeling  man- 
ner, have  liked  to  lose  you  till  I had  made  more  money 
out  of  you  neither.”  . 

Prone  in  another  ditch  (he  had  changed  his  ditch  as 
his  man  had  changed  his  position^,  and  holding  apart  so 
small  a patch  of  the  hedge  that  the  sharpest  eyes  could 
not  have  detected  him.  Rogue  Riderhood  watched  the 
bather  dressing.  And  now  gradually  came  the  wonder 
that  he  stood  up,  completely  clothed,  another  man,  and 
not  tlie  Rargeman. 

Aha  !”  said  Riderhood.  Much  as  you  was  dressed 
that  night.  I see.  You’re  a taking  me  with  you,  now. 
You’re  deep.  But  I knows  a deeper.” 

V/hen  the  bather  had  finished  dressing  he  kneeled  on 
the  grass,  doing  something  with  his  hands,  and  again 
stood  up  with  his  bundle  under  his  arm.  Looking  all 
around  him  with  great  attention,  he  then  went  to  the 
river’s  edge,  and  flung  it  in  as  far,  and  yet  as  lightly  as 
be  could.  It  was  not  until  he  was  so  decidedly  upon  his 
way  again  as  to  be  beyond  a bend  of  the  river,  and  for  the 
time  out  of  view,  that  Riderhoods  crambled  from  the  ditch. 

Now,”  was  bis  debate  with  himself,  shall  I foller 
you  on,  or  shall  I let  you  loose  for  this  once,  and  go  a 
fishing  ?”  The  debate  continuing,  he  followed,  as  a pre- 
cautionary measure  in  any  case,  and  got  him  again  in 
sight.  If  I was  to  let  you  loose  this  once,”  said  Rider- 
hood then,  still  following,  I could  make  }^ou  come  to 
me  agin,  or  I could  find  you  out  in  one  way  or  another. 
If  I \vasii’t  to  go  a fishing  others  might.  I’ll  let  you 
loose  this  once  and  go  a fishing  I”  With  that  he  sud- 
denly dropped  the  pursuit  and  turned. 

The  miserable  man  whom  be  had  released  for  the  time^ 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


121 


but  not  for  long  Tv^ent  on  toward  London.  Bradley  was 
suspicious  of  every  sound  he  heard,  and  of  every  face  ho 
saw,  but  was  under  a spell  which  very  commonly  fulls  upon 
the  sheclder  of  blood,  and  had  no  suspicion  of  the  real  dan- 
ger that  lurked  in  his  life,  and  would  have  it  yet.  Eider- 
hood  was  niucli  in  his  thoughts — had  never  been  out  of  his 
thouglits  since  the  nig'ht-adventnre  of  their  first  meeting  ; 
but  Riderhood  occupied  a very  difierent  place  there  from 
the  place  of  pursuer  ; and  Bradley  iiad  been  at  the  pains 
of  devising  so  many  means  of  fitting  that  place  to  him,  and 
of  wedging  him  into  it,  that  his  mind  could  not  compass 
the  possibility  of  his  occupying  any  other.  And  this  is 
another  spell  against  which  the  shedder  of  blood  forever 
strives  in  vain.  There  are  fifty  doors  by  which  discovery 
may  enter.  With  infinite  pains  and  cunning  he  double 
locks  and  bars  forty-nine  of  them,  and  can  not  see  the 
fiftieth  standing  wide  open. 

Now,  too,  was  he  cursed  with  a state  of  mind  more 
wearing  and  more  wearisome  tlian  remorse.  He  had  no 
remorse  ; but  the  evil  doer  who  can  hold  that  avenger 
at  bay  can  not  escape  the  slower  torture  of  incessantly 
doing  the  evil  deed  again  and  doing  it  more  efficiently. 
In  the  defensive  declarations  and  pretended  confessions 
of  murderers,  the  pursuing  shadow  of  this  torture  may 
be  traced  Ihrougli  every  lie  they  tell.  If  I had  done  it 
as  alleged,  is  it  conceivable  that  I would  have  made  this 
and  this  mistake  ? If  I had  done  it  as  alleged,  should  I 
have  left  that  unguarded  place  which  that  false  and 
wicked  witness  against  me  so  infamously  deposed  to  ? 
The  state  of  that  wretch  who  continually  finds  the  weak 
spots  in  his  own  crime,  and  strives  to  strengthen  them 
when  it  is  unchangeable,  is  a state  that  aggravates  the 


122 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


offense  by  doing  the  deed  a thousand  times  instead  of 
once  ; but  it  is  a state,  too,  that  tauntingly  visits  the 
offense  upon  a sullen  unrepentant  nature  with  its  heaviest 
punishment  every  time. 

Bradley  toiled  on,  chained  heavily  to  the  idea  of  his 
hatred  and  his  veng-eance,  and  thinking  how  he  might 
have  satiated  both  in  mau}^  better  ways  than  the  way 
he  had  taken.  The  instrument  might  have  been  better, 
the  spot  and  the  hour  might  have  been  better  chosen. 
To  batter  a man  down  from  behind  in  the  dark,  on  the 
brink  of  a river,  was  well  enough,  but  he  ought  to  have 
been  instantly  disabled,  whereas  he  had  turned  and 
seized  his  assailant  ; and  so,  to  end  it  before  chance- 
help  came,  and  to  be  rid  of  him,  he  had  been  hurriedly 
thrown  backward  into  the  river  before  the  life  was 
fully  beaten  out  of  him.  Now  if  it  could  be  done 
again,  it  must  not  be  so  done.  Supposing  his  head 
had  been  held  down  under  water  for  a while.  Sup- 
posing the  first  blow  had  been  truer.  Supposing  he 
had  been  shot.  Supposing  he  had  been  strangled. 
Suppose  this  way,  that  way,  the  other  way.  Suppose 
any  thing  but  getting  unchained  from  the  one  idea, 
for  that  was  inexorably  impossible. 

The  school  reopened  next  day.  The  scholars  saw 
little  or  no  change  in  their  master^s  face,  for  it  always 
wmre  its  slowly  laboring  expression.  But  as  he  heard 
his  classes  he  was  always  doing  the  deed  and  doing  it 
better.  As  he  paused  with  his  piece  of  chalk  at  the 
blackboard  before  writing  on  it  he  was  thinking  of  the 
spot,  and  whether  the  water  was  not  deeper  and  the 
fall  straighter,  a little  higher  up,  or  a little  lower 
down.  He  had  half  a mind  to  draw  a line  or  two  upon 


OUB  MTJTOAL  FElENt). 


123 


the  board,  and  show  himself  what  he  meant.  He  was 
doin^  it  again  and  improving  on  the  manner,  at  pray- 
ers, in  his  mental  arithmetic,  all  through  his  question* 
ing,  all  through  the  day. 

Charley  Hexam  was  a master  now,  in  another  school, 
under  another  head.  It  was  evening,  and  Bradley 
Was  walking  in  his  garden,  observed  from  behind  a 
blind  by  gentle  little  Miss  Peecher,  who  contemplated 
offering  him  a loan  of  her  smelling*salts  for  headache, 
when  Mary  Anne,  in  faithful  attendance,  held  up  her 
arm. 

Yes,  Mary  Anne 

Young  Mr.  Hexam,  if  you  please,  ma’am,  coming 
to  see  Mr.  Headstone.” 

Very  good,  Mary  Anne.” 

Again  Mary  Anne  held  up  her  arm. 

“You  may  speak,  Mary  Anne  ?” 

“ Mr.  Headstone  has  beckoned  young  Mr.  Hexam 
into  his  house,  ma^am,  and  he  has  gone  in  himself 
without  waiting  for  young  Mr.  Hexam  to  come  up, 
and  now  he  has  gone  in  too,  ma’am,  and  has  shut  the 
door.” 

“ With  all  my  heart,  Mary  Anne.” 

And  Mary  Anne’s  telegraphic  arm  worked. 

“ What  more,  Mary  Anne 

“ They  must  find  it  rather  dull  and  dark,  Miss  Pee- 
cher,  for  the  parlor  blind’s  down,  and  neither  of  them 
pulls  it  up.*” 

“ There  is  no  accounting,”  said  good  Miss  Peecher, 
with  a little  sad  sigh  which  she  repressed  by  laying 
her  hand  on  her  neat  methodical  bodice,  “ there  is  no 
accounting  for  tastes,  Mary  Anne.” 


124 


ote  MVTVAi. 


Charley,  entering  the  dark  room,  stopped  short  when 
he  saw  his  old  friend  in  its  yellow  shade. 

Come  in,  Hexam,  come  in.’’ 

Charlej  a^'vanced  to  take  the  hand  that  was  held 
out  to  him  ; but  stopped  again,  short  of  it.  'The  heavy, 
bloodshot  ej’es  of  the  schoolmaster,  rising  to  bis  face 
M^lih  an  effort,  met  his  look  of  scrutin}\” 

‘‘Mr.  Headstone,  what’s  the  matter  ?” 

“ Matter  ? Where  ?” 

‘•Mr.  Headstone,  have  you  heard  the  news?  This 
news  about  the  fellow,  Mr.  Eugene  Wrayburn?  That 
he  is  killed  ?” 

“ Re  is  dead,  then  !”  exclaimed  Bradley. 

Young-  Hexarn  standing  looking  at  him,  he  moisten^ 
ed  his  lips  v.dth  his  tongue,  looking  about  the  room, 
glanced  at  his  former  pupil,  and  looked  down.  “ I 
heard  of  the  outrage,”  said  Bradley,  trying  to  con- 
strain his  working  mouth,  “ but  I had  not  beard  the 
end  of  it.” 

“ Where  were  you,”  said  the  boy,  advancing  a step 
as  he  lowered  his  voice,  “ when  it  was  done  ? Stop  ! 
I do«n’t  ask  that.  Don’t  tell  me.  If  you  force  your 
confidence  upon  me,  Mr.  Headstone,  I’ll  give  up  every 
word  of  it.  Mind  ! Take  notice.  I’ll  give  up  it,  and 
I’ll  give  up  you.  I will  !” 

The  wretched  creature  seemed  to  suffer  acutely 
under  this  renunciation.  A desolate  air  of  utter 
and  complete  loneliness  fell  upon  him,  like  a visible 
shade. 

“ It’s  for  me  to  speak,  not  you,”  said  the  boy.  “ If 
you  do,  you’ll  do  it  at  your  peril.  I am  going  to  put 
your  selfishness  bufore  you,  Mr.  Headstoue — your  passion- 


CUE  MUTUAL  FRIEND, 


125 


ate,  violent,  and  migovernablo  selfishness — to  show  3’'bn 
wliy  I can,  and  Avhy  I will,  have  nothing  more  to  do 
witli  yon/’ 

He  looked  at  young  Ilexam  as  if  he  were  waiting  for 
a scholar  to  go  on  with  a lesson  that  he  knew  by  heart 
and  was  deadly  tired  of.  But  he  had  said  his  last  word 
to  liiin. 

'‘If  yon  had  any  part — I don’t  say  what — in  this  at- 
tack,” pursued  the  boy  ; “ or  if  you  know  any  thing 
about  it — I don’t  say  how  much — or  if  you  know  who 
did  it — I go  no  closer — you  did  an  injury  to  me  that’s 
never  to  be  forgiven.  You  know  that  I took  you  with 
me  to  his  chambers  in  the  Temple,  when  I told  him  my 
opinion  of  him,  and  made  myself  responsible  for  my  opin- 
ion of  yom  You  know  that  I took  you  with  me  when  I 
was  watching  him  with  a view  to  recovering  my  sister  and 
bringing  her  to  her  senses  ; you  know  that  I have  allowed 
myself  to  be  mixed  up  with  you,  all  through  this  business, 
in  favoring  your  desire  to  marry  my  sister.  And  how  do 
you  know  that,  pursuing  the  ends  of  your  own  violent 
temper,  you  have  not  laid  me  open  to  suspicion  ? Is  that 
your  gratitude  to  me,  Mr.  Headstone  ?” 

Bradley  sat  looking  steadily  before  him  at  the  vacant 
air.  As  often  as  young  Hexam  stopped  he  turned  his 
eyes  toward  him,  as  if  he  were  waiting  for  him  to  go  on 
with  the  lesson,  and  get  it  done.  As  often  as  the  boy  re- 
sumed ^Bradley  resumed  his  fixed  face. 

“ I am  going  to  be  plain  with  you,  Mr.  Headstone,” 
said  young  Hexam,  shaking  his  head  in  a half-threatening 
manner,  “ because  this  is  no  time  for  affecting  not  to 
know  things  that  I do  know — except  certain  things  at 
which  it  might  not  be  very  safe  for  you  to  hint  agaim 


126 


OTJK  MUTUAL  FKIEND. 


What  I mean  is  this  : if  you  were  a good  master,  I was 
a good  pupil.  I haYe  done  you  plenty  of  credit,  and  in 
improving  my  own  reputation  I have  improved  yours  quite 
as  much.  Yery  well  then.  Starting  on  equal  terms,  I 
want  to  put  before  you  bow  you  have  shown  your  grati- 
tude to  me  for  doing  all  I could  to  further  your  wishes 
with  reference  to  my  sister.  You  have  compromised  me 
by  being  seen  about  with  me,  endeavoring  to  counteract 
this  Mr.  Eugene  Wrayburn.  That^s  the  first  thing  you 
have  done.  If  my  character,  and  my  now  dropping  you, 
help  me  out  of  that,  Mr.  Headstone,  the  deliverance  is 
to  be  attributed  to  me  and  not  to  you.  No  thanks  to 
you  for  it  I” 

The  boy  stopping  again,  he  moved  his  eyes  again. 

I am  going  on,  Mr.  Headstone,  donT  you  be  afraid. 
I am  going  on  to  the  end,  and  I have  told  you  before- 
hand what  the  end  is.  Now,  you  know  my  story.  You 
are  as  well  aware  as  I am,  that  I have  had  many  disad- 
vantages to  leave  behind  me  iu  life.  You  have  heard  me 
mentiou  my  father,  and  you  are  sufficiently  acquainted 
with  the  fact  that  the  home  from  which  I,  as  I may  say, 
escaped,  might  have  been  a more  creditable  one  than  it 
was.  My  father  died,  and  then  it  might  have  been  sup- 
posed that  my  way  to  respectability  was  pretty  clear.  No. 
For  then  my  sister  begins.^^ 

He  spoke  as  confidently,  and  with  as  entire  an  absence 
of  any  tell-tale  color  in  his  cheek,  as  if  there  ^^eve  no 
softening  old  time  behind  him.  Not  wonderful,  for  there 
was  none  in  his  hollow  empty  heart.  What  is  there  but 
self,  for  selfishness  to  see  behind  it  ? 

'‘When  I speak  of  my  sister  I devoutly  wish  that  you 
bad  never  seen  her,  Mr.  Headstone.  However,  you  did 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


127 


see  Iier,  and- that’s  useless  now.  I confided  in  you  about 
her.  I explained  her  clianicter  to  you,  and  how  she  in- 
torposcil  some  ridiculous  fanciful  notions  in  the  way  of 
our  bein^  as  respectable  as  I tried  for.  You  fell  in  love 
with  her,  and  I favored  you  with  all  might.  She 

could  not  be  induced  to  favor  you,  and  so  we  came  into 
collision  with  this  Mr.  Eugene  Wrayburn.  Now,  what 
have  you  done  ? Why,^  you  have  justified  my  sister  in 
being  firmly  set  against  you  from  first  to  last,  and  you 
have  put  me  in  the  wrong  again  I And  why  have  you 
done  it  ? Because,  Mr.  Headstone,  you  are  in  all  your 
passions  so  selfish,  and  so  concentrated  upon  yourself, 
that  you  have  not  bestowed  one  proper  thought  on 
me.’’ 

The  cool  conviction  with  which  the  boy  took  up  and 
held  his  position  could  have  been  derived  from  no  other 
vice  in  liumaii  nature. 

‘Ht  is,”  he  went  on,  actually,  with  tears,  ^^an  extra- 
ordinary circumstance  attendant  on  my  life,  that  every 
effort  I mak?  toward  perfect  respectability,  is  impeded  by 
somebody  else  through  no  fault  of  mine.!  Not  content 
with  doing  what  1 have  put  before  you,  you  will  drag  my 
name  into  notoriety  through  dragging  my  sister’s — which 
you  are  pretty  sure  to  do,  if  my  suspicions  have  any 
foundation  at  all — and  the  worse  you  prove  to  be,  the 
harder  it  will  be  for  me  to  detach  myself  from  being  as- 
sociated with  you  in  people’s  minds.” 

When  he  had  dried  his  eyes  and  heaved  a sob  over  his 
injuries,  he  began  moving  toward  the  door. 

“ However,  I have  made  up  my  mind  that  I will  be- 
come respectable  in  the  scale  of  society,  and  that  I will 
not  be  dragged  down  by  others.  I have  done  with  my 


128 


CUE  KUTUAL  PRIRND. 


sister  as  well  as  with  yon.  Since  she  cares  so  little  for 
me  as  to  care  nothing  for  uncleniiiniiig  my  respectability, 
she  shall  go  her  way  and  I will  go  mine.  My  prospects 
are  very  good,  and  I mean  to  follow  them  alone.  Mr. 
Headstone,  I don^t  say  what  you  have  got  upon  your 
conscience,  for  I don’t  know.  Whatever  lies  upon  it,  I 
hope  you  will  see  the  justice  of  keepiiig  wide  and  clear  of 
me,  and  vriil  find  a consolation  in  completely  exonerating 
ail  but  yourself.  1 hope,  before  many  years  are  out,  to 
succeed  the  master  in  my  present  school,  and  the  mis- 
tress being  a single  woman,  though  some  years  older  than 
I am,  I might  even  marry  her.  If  it  is  any  comfort  to 
you  to  know  what  plans  I may  work  out  by  keeping  my- 
self strictly  respectable  in  the  scale  of  society,  these  are 
the  plans  at  present  occurring  to  me.  In  conclusion,  if 
you  feel  a sense  of  having  injured  me,  and  a desire  to 
make  some  small  reparation,  I hope  you  will  think  how 
respectable  you  might  have  been  yoursedf,  and  will  con- 
template your  blighted  existence.’’ 

Yv  as  it  strange  that  the  wretched  man  slit)u]d  take  this 
heavily  to  heart  ? Perhaps  be  had  taken  the  boy  to 
heart,  first,  throngli  some  long  laborious  years  ; perhaps 
through  the  same  years  he  had  found  his  drudgery  light- 
ened by  communication  with  a brighter  and  more  appre- 
hensive spirit  than  Ills  own  ; perhaps  a family  resemblance 
efface  and  voice  between  the  boyanddiis  sister,  smote 
liim  hard  in  tb.e  gloom  of  his  fallen  state.  For  whichso- 
ever reason,  or  for  all,  he  drooped  his  devoted  head  wiien 
the  boy  was  gone,  and  shrank  together  on  the  floor,  and 
groveled  there,  with  the  palms  of  his  hands  tight-clasp- 
ing his  hot  temples  in  unutterable  misery,  and  unrelieved 
by  a single  tear. 


OTR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


129 


Rogne  -Riderhood  had  been  busy  with  the  river  that 
chiy.  He  had  fished  with  assiduity  on  the  previous  eve- 
ning, but  the  light  was  short,  and  he  had  fished  unsuc- 
cessfully. He  had  fished  again  that  day  with  better  luck, 
and  had  carried  his  fish  home  to  Plashwater  Weir  Mill 
Lock-house  in  a bundle. 


6* 


130 


OUB  MUTUAL  FBIEND. 


CHAPTER  TUI. 

A FEW  GRAINS  OF  PEPPER. 

The  dolls^  dress-maker  went  no  more  to  the  business- 
premises  of  Piibsey  and  Co.  in  St.  Mary  Axe,  after 
chance  bad  disclosed  to  her  (as  she  supposed)  the  flinty 
and  hypocritical  character  of  Mr.  E-iah.  She  often 
moralized  over  her  work  on  the  tricks  and  the  manners 
of  that  venerable  cheat,  but  made  her  little  purchases 
elsewhere,  and  lived  a secluded  ]ife.  After  much  con- 
sultation with  herself,  she  decided  not  to  put  Lizzie 
Hexam  on  her  guard  against  the  old  man,  arguing  that 
the  disappointment  of  finding  him  out  would  come  upon 
her  quite  soon  enough.  Therefore,  in  her  communication 
with  her  friend  by  letter,  she  was  silent  on  this  theme, 
and  principally  dilated  on  the  backslidings  of  her  bad 
child,  who  every  day  grew  worse  and  worse. 

You  wicked  old  boy,’^  Miss  Wren  would  say  to  him, 
with  a menacing  forefinger,  “ you’ll  force  me  to  run  away 
from  you,  after  all,  you  will ; and  then  you’ll  shake  to 
bits,  and  there’ll  be  nobody  to  pick  up  the  pieces  I” 

At  this  foreshadowing  of  a desolate  decease  the  wick- 
ed old  boy  would  whine  and  whimper,  and  would  sit 
shaking  himself  into  the  lowest  of  low  spirits,  until  such 
time  as  he  could  shake  himself  out  of  the  house  and  shake 
another  threepennyworth  into  himself.  But  dead  drunk 
or  dead  sober  (he  had  come  to  such  a pass  that  he  was 


OUll  MUTUAL  FEIEND. 


131 


least  alive  in  the  latter  state),  it  was  always  on  the  con- 
science of  the  paralytic  scarecrow  that  ho  had  betrayed 
his  sluirp  parent  for  sixty  threepennyworths  of  rum, 
which  were  all  gone,  and  that  her  sharpness  would  infalli- 
bly detect  his  having  done  it,  sooner  or  later.  All  things 
considered  therefore,  and  addition  made  of  the  state  of 
liis  body  to  the  state  of  his  mind,  the  bed  on  which  Mr. 
Dolls  reposed  was  a bed  of  roses  from  which  the  flowers 
and  leaves  had  entirely  faded,  leaving  him  to  lie  upon 
the  thorns  and  stalks. 

On  a certain  day  Miss  Yv  ren  was  alone  at  her  work, 
with  the  house-door  set  open  for  coolness,  and  was  troll- 
ing in  a small  sweet  voice  a mournful  little  song  which 
might  have  been  tlie  song  of  the  doll  she  was  dressing, 
bemoaning  the  brittleness-  and  meltability  of  wax,  when 
whom  should  slie  descry  standing  on  the  pavement,  look- 
ing ill  at  her,  but  Mr.  Fiedgeby, 

'‘I  thougiit  it  was  you  said  Fledgeby,  coming  up 
the  two  steps. 

'‘‘Did  you  Miss  Wren  retorted.  “And  I thought 
it  was  you,  young  man.  Quite  a coincidence.  Youh’e 
not  mistaken,  and  Pm  not  mistaken.  How  clever  we 
are 

“ Well,  and  how  are  you  said  Fledgeby. 

“ I am  pretty  mucli  as  usual,  Sir,^^  replied  Miss  Wren. 
“ A very  unfortunate  parent,  worried  out  of  my  life  and 
senses  by  a very  bad  child.^^ 

Fledgeby^s  small  eyes  opened  so  wide  that  they  might 
have  passed  for  ordinary-sized  eyes,  as  he  stared  about 
him  for  the  very  young  person  whom  he  supposed  to  be 
in  question. 

“ But  youh’e  not  a parent,”  said  Miss  Yfren,  “ and 


ISS 


MVrVAT.  FEIEND. 


consequently  it^s  of  no  use  talking  to  you  upon  a family 
subject. — To  what  am  I to  attribute  the  honor  and 
favor 

“ To  a 'wish  to  improve  your  acquaintance/^  Mr. 
Fledg-eby  replied. 

Miss  Wren,  stopping  to  bite  her  thread,  looked  at  him 
very  knowingly. 

“ Yv^ e never  meet  now/’  said  Fledgebv  ; “ do  we  ?" 

No/’  said  Miss  Wren,  chopping  oif  the  word. 

“ So  I liad  a mind,”  pursued  Fledgeby,  “ to  come  and 
have  a talk  witii  you  about  oiu*  dodging  friend,  the  child 
of  Israel.” 

So  he  gave  yon  my  address  ; did  he  ?”  asked  Miss 
"W  reii. 

I got  it  out  of  him,”  said  Fledgeby,  with  a stammer. 

‘‘  You  seem  to  see  a good  deal  of  him,”  remarked  Miss 
V/ren,  with  shrewd  distrust.  A good  deal  of  him  you 
seem  to  see,  considering.” 

“ Yes,  I do,”  said  Fledgeby.  ''  Considering.” 

‘‘  Haven’t  you,”  inquired  the  dress-maker,  bending 
over  the  doll  on  which  her  art  was  being  exercised,  done 
interceding  with  him  yet  ?” 

No,”  said  Fledgeby,  shaking  his  head. 

La  ! Been  interceding  with  him  all  this  time,  and 
sticking  to  him  slill  ?”  said  Miss  Wren,  busy  with  her 
work. 

“ Sticking  to  him  is  the  word,”  said  Fledgeby. 

Miss  Wren  pursued  her  occupation  with  a concentrated 
air,  and  asked,  after  an  interval  of  silent  industry  ; 

Are  you  in  the  army  ?” 

Not  exactly,”  said  Fledgeby,  rather  flattered  by  the 
question. 


OUK  BirmiAL  FKrENI). 


133 


**  Navy  asked  Miss  Wren. 

<<  — no/^  said*  Fledgeby.  ife  qualified  these  two 

negatives  as  if  he  w^ere  not  absolutely  in  either  service, 
but  vras  almost  in  both. 

What  are  you  then  demanded  Miss  Wren. 

“ I am  a gentleman,  I am,^^  said  Fledgeby. 

“ Oh  assented  Jenny,  screwing  up  her  mouth  with 
an  appearance  of  conviction.  Yes,  to  be  sure  ! That 
accounts  for  your  having  so  much  time  to  give  to  inter- 
ceding. But  only  to  think  how  kind  and  friendly  a 
gentleman  you  must  be  V’ 

Mr.  Fledgeby  found  that  lie  was  skating  round  a 
board  marked  Dangerous,  and  had  better  cut  out  a fresh 
track.  Letks  get  back  to  the  dodgerest  of  dodgers,’^ 
said  he.  ''What’s  be  up  to  in  the  case  of  your  friend 
the  handsome  gal  ? He  must  have  some  object.  What’s 
liis  object 

" Can  not  undertake  to  say,  Sir,  I am  sure  !”  re- 
turned Miss  Wren,  composedly. 

“ He  won’t  acknowledge  where  she’s  gone,”  said 
Fledgeby  ; " and  I have  a fanc}^  that  I should  like  to 
have  another  look  at  her.  Now  I know  he  knows 
where  she  is  gone.” 

" Can  not  undertake  to  say,  Sir,  I am  sure  !”  Miss 
Wren  again  rejoined. 

" And  you  know  where  she  is  gone,”  hazarded 
Fledgeby. 

'•  Can  not  undertake  to  say,  Sir,  really,”  replied 
Miss  Wren. 

The  quaint  little  chin  met  Mr.  Fledgeby’s  gaze  with 
such  a baffling  hitch  that  that  agreeable  gentleman 
was  for  some  time  at  a loss  how  to  resume  his 


134 


OVR  MUTUAL  FiMEKL. 


fascinating  part  in  the  dialogue.  At  length  he 
said  : 

Miss  Jenny  !— That’s  your  name,  if  I don’t  mis- 
take r 

Probably  you  don’t  mistake,  Sir,”  was  Miss  Wren’s 
cool  answer  ; because  you  had  it  on  the  best  au- 
thority. Mine,  you  know.” 

“ Miss  Jenny  ! Instead  of  coming'  up  and  being 
dead,  let’s  come  out  and  look  alive.  It’ll  pay  better,  I 
assure  you,”  said  Fledgeby,  bestowing  an  inveigling 
twinkle  or  two  upon  the  dress-maker.  “ You’ll  find  it 
pay  better.” 

“ Perhups,”  said  Miss  Jenny,  holding  out  her  doll  at 
arm’sdength,  and  critically  contemplating  the  effect' 
of  her  art  with  her  scissors  on  her  lips  and  her  head 
thrown  back,  as  if  her  interest  lay  there,  and  not  in 
the  conversation  ; “ perhaps  you’ll  explain  your  mean- 
ing,  young  man,  which  is  Greek  to  me.  You  must 
have  another  touch  of  blue  in  your  trimming,  my  dear.” 
Having  addressed  the  last  remark  to  her  fair  client. 
Miss  Wren  proceeded  to  snip  at  some  blue  fragments 
that  lay  before  her  among  fragments  of  all  colors,  and 
to  thread  a needle  from  a skein  of  blue  silk. 

“Look  here,”  said  Fledgeb}\ — “Are  you  attend- 
ing ?” 

“I  am  attending,  Sir,”  replied  Miss  Wren,  without 
the  slightest  appearance  of  so  doing.  “ Another  touch 
of  blue  in  your  trimming,  my  dear.” 

“ Well,  look  here,”  said  Fiedgeb}^  rather  discouraged 
by  the  circumstances  under  which  he  found  himself 
pursuing  the  conversation.  “ If  ^mur  attending — ” 

(“  Light  blue,  my  sweet  young  lady,”  remarked 


OUB  MUTUAL  FRIEKD. 


135 


Mi8S  Wren,  in  a spriglitlv  tone,  ‘‘being  best  suited  to 
your  fair  complexion  and  your  flaxen  curls.^’) 

“ I sny,  if  you’re  attending’,”  proceeded  FledgObjj 
“ it’ll  pay  better  in  this  way.  It’ll  lead  in  a rounds 
about  manner  to  your  buying  damage  and  waste  of 
Pubsey  & Co.  at  a nominal  price,  or  even  getting  it 
for  nothing  ” 

“Aha  !”  thought  the  dress-maker.  “But  you  are 
not  so  roundabout,  Little  Eyes,  that  I don’t  notice 
your  answering  for  Pubsey  & Co.  after  all  ! Little 
Eyes,  Little  Eyes,  you’re  too  cunning  by  half.” 

“And  I take  it  for  granted,”  pursued  Fledgeby, 
“ that  to  get  the  most  of  your  materials  for  nothing 
would  be  well  worth  your  while,  Miss  Jenny 

“You  may^  take  it  for  granted,”  returned  the  dress- 
maker with  many  knowing  nods,  “ that  it’s  always 
W'ell  worth  my  while  to  make  money.” 

“ Now,”  said  Fledgeby,  approvingly,  “ you’re  an* 
swering  to  a sensible  purpose.  Now,  you’re  coming 
out  and  looking  alive  I So  I make  so  free.  Miss  Jenny, 
as  to  offer  the  remark,  that  you  and  Judah  were  too 
thick  together  to  last.  You  can’t  come  to  be  intimate 
with  such  a deep  file  as  Judah  without  beginning  to 
see  a little  way  into  him,  you  know,”  said  Fledgeby 
with  a wink. 

“ I must  own,”  returned  the  dress-maker,  with  her 
eyes  upon  her  work,  “ that  we  are  not  good  friends  at 
present.” 

“I  know  you’re  not  good  friends  at  present,”  said 
Fledgeby.  “ I knovf' all  about  it.  I should  like  to  pay 
off  Judah  b}’’  not  letting  him  have  his  own  deep  way  in 
every  thing.  In  most  things  he’ll  get  it  by  hook  or  by 


136 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEITD, 


crook,  but — bang*  it  all  ! — don’t  let  him  have  his  own 
deep  way  in  every  thing*.  That’s  too  much.”  Mr. 
Fledgeby  said  this,  with  some  display  of  indignant 
\varmth,  as  if  he  was  counsel  in  the  cause  of  Virtue. 

“ How  can  I prevent  his  having  his  own  way  ?”  be- 
gan the  dress- maker. 

Deep  way,  I call  it,”  said  Fledgeb}L 
— His  own  deep  waxy  in  anything  ?” 
ni  tell  3^11,”  said  Fiedgeby.  **  I like  to  hear  you 
ask  it,  because  it’s  looking  alive.  It’s  what  I should 
expect  to  find  in  one  of  y^our  sagacious  understanding. 
Now,  candidly.” 

Eh  ?”  cried  Miss  Jenny. 

I said,  now  candidly,”  Mr.  Fiedgeby  explained,  a 
little  put  out. 

Oh-h  !” 

I should  be  glad  to  countermine  him  respecting 
the  handsome  gal,  your  friend.  He  means  something 
there.  You  may  depend  upon  it,  Judah  moans  some- 
thing there.  He  has  a motive,  and  of  course  his  mo- 
tive is  a dark  motive.  Now,  whatever  his  motive  is, 
it’s  necessary  to  his  motive” — Mr.  Fiedgeby ’s  construc- 
tive powers  were  not  equal  to  the  avoidance  of  some 
tautology  liere — that  it  should  be  kept  from  me  xvhat 
he  has  done  with  her.  So  I put  it  to  you,  who  know  : 
Wiiat  has  be  done  with  her  ? I ask  no  more.  And  is  that 
asking  much,  when  you  understand  that  it  will  pay  ?” 
Miss  Jenny  Wren,  who  had  cast  her  ey^es  upon  the 
bench  again  after  her  last  interruption,  sat  looking  at 
it,  needle  in  hand  but  not  working*,  forborne  moments. 
She  then  briskly  resumed  her  work,  and  said,  with  a 
sidelong  glance  of  her  eyes  and  chin  at  Mr.  Fiedgeby, 


OUR  MUTUAL  FKIEKD. 


18T 


Where  d'jc  live 

Albai\y,  Piccadilly/’  replied  Fledgeby. 

When  are  you  at  home?” 

When  yon  like.^’ 

^‘Breakfast  time  said  Jenny,  ia  her  abruptest  and 
shortest  manner. 

“Iso  better  time  in  the  day,”  said  Fledgeby. 

Pil  look  in  upon  you  to-morro-w',  young  man.  Those 
two  ladies,”  pointing  to  dolls,  have  an  appointment  in 
Bond  street  at  ten  precisely.  When  I’ve  dropped  ’em 
there  I’ll  drive  round  to  you.”  With  a weird  little  laugh 
Miss  Jenny  pointed  to  her  crutch-stick  as  her  equipage. 

“ This  is  looking  alive,  indeed  !”  cried  Fledgeby, 
rising. 

Mark  you ! I promise  you  nothing,”  said  the  dolls’ 
dress'inaker,  dabbing  two  dabs  at  him  with  her  needle, 
as  if  she  put  out  both  his  eyes. 

^‘No,  no.  7 understand,”  returned  Fledgeby.  ^‘The 
damage  and  waste  question  sliali  be  settled  first.  It  shall 
be  made  to  pay  ; don’t  you  be  afraid.  Good-day,  Miss 
Jenny.” 

“ Good  day,  young  man.” 

Mr.  Fledgeby’s  prepossessing  form  withdrew  itself  ; and 
the  little  dressmaker,  clipping  and  snipping  and  stitching, 
and  stitching  and  snipping  and  clipping,  fell  to  work  at 
a great  rate  ; musing  and  muttering  ail  the  time. 

Misty,  misty,  misty.  Can’t  make  it  out.  Little  Eyes 
and  the  wolf  in  a conspiracy  ? Or  Little  Eyes  and  the 
wolf  against  one  another  ? Can’t  make  it  out.  My  poor 
Lizzie,  iiavc  they  both  designs  against  you,  either  way  ? 
Can’t  make  it  out.  Is  Little  Eyes  Pubsey,  and  the  wolf 
Co?  Can’t  mak^  it  out.  Pubsey  true  to  Co,  aud  Co 


138 


OUE  MUTUAL  FEIEND. 


to  Pubsey  ? Pubsey  false  to  Co,  and  Co  to  Pubsey  ? 
Can’t  make  it  out.  What  said  Little  Eyes?  'Now, 
candidly  V All  ! However  the  cat  jumps,  he's  a liar. 
That’s  all  I can  make  out  at  present ; but  you  may  go 
to  bed  in  the  Albany,  Piccadillj^  with  ikat  for  your  pil- 
low, young  man  !”  Thereupon  the  little  dress-maker 
again  dabbed  out  his  eyes  separately,  and  making  a loop 
in  the  arr  of  her  thread  and  deftly  catching  it  into  a knot 
with  her  needle,  seemed  to  bowstring  him  into  the 
bargain. 

For  tlie  terrors  undergone  b}"  Mr.  Dolls  that  evening 
when  his  little  parent  sat  profoundly  meditating  over  her 
work,  and  wlien  be  imagined  himself  found  out,  as  often 
as  she  changed  her  attitude,  or  turned  her  eyes  toward 
liini,  there  is  no  adequate  name.  Moreover  it  was  her 
habit  to  shake  her  head  at  that  wretched  old  boy  when- 
ever she  caught  his  eyes  as  lie  shivered  and  shook.  What 
are  popularly  called  the  trembles”  being  in  full  force 
upon  ])im  that  evening,  and  likewise  wliat  are  popularly 
called  “ tlie  horrors,”  he  had  a very  bad  time  of  it  ; w'hicli 
was  not  made  better  by  his  being  so  remorseful  as  fre- 
quently to  moan  " Sixty  threepenii’orths.”  This  imper- 
fect sentence  not  being  at  all  intelligible  as  a confession, 
but  sounding  like  a Gargantuan  order  for  a dram,  brought 
him  into  new  difficulties  by  occasoning  his  parent  to 
pounce  at  him  in  a more  than  usually  snappish  manner, 
and  to  overvvlielm  him  with  bitter  reproaches. 

What  was  a bad  time  for  Mr.  Dolls  could  not  fail  to 
be  a bad  time  for  the  dolls’  dress-maker.  However,  she 
was  on  tlie  alert  next  morning,  and  drove  to  Bond  Street, 
and  set  down  the  two  ladies  punctually,  and  then  directed 
her  equipage  to  conduct  her  to  the  Albany.  Arrived  at 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


139 


the  doorway  of  the  liouse  in  which  Mr.  Fledgeby’s  cham- 
bers were,  she  found  a lady  standing  there  in  a traveling 
dress — holding  in  her  hand — of  all  things  in  the  world — 
a gentleman^s  hat. 

“ You  want  some  one  said  the  lady  in  a stern 
manner. 

I am  going  up  stairs  to  Mr.  Fledgeby’s.’^ 

You  can  not  do  that  at  this  moment.  There  is  a 
gentleman  with  liim.  I am  waiting  for  the  gentleman. 
His  business  with  Mr.  Flcdgeby  will  very  soon  be  trans- 
acted, and  then  you  can  go  up.  Until  the  gentleman 
comes  down,  you  must  wait  here.’^ 

While  speaking,  and  afterward,  the  lady  kept  watch- 
fully between  her  and  the  staircase,  as  if  prepared  to  op- 
pose her  going  up  by  force.  The  lady  being  of  a stature 
to  stop  her  with  a hand,  and  looking  mightily  determined, 
the  dress-maker  stood  still. 

Well  ? Why  do  you  listen  asked  the  lady. 

“ I am  not  listening,’’  said  the  dress-maker. 

“ What  do  you  hear  asked  the  lady  altering  her 
phrase. 

Is  it  a kind  of  a spluttering  somewhere  said  the 
dress-maker,  with  an  inquiring  look. 

Mr.  Fledgeby  in  his  shower-bath,  perhaps,”  remarked 
the  lady,  smiling. 

And  somebody’s  beating  a carpet,  I think  ?” 

Mr.  Fledgeby’s  carpet,  I dare  say,”  replied  the  smil- 
ing lady. 

Miss  Wren  had  a reasonably  good  eye  for  smiles,  being 
well  accustomed  to  them  on  the  part  of  her  young  friends, 
though  their  smiles  mostly  I’un  smaller  than  in  nature. 
But  she  had  never  «een  so  singular  a smile  as  that  upon 


140 


OUR  MUTUAL  TEIENP. 


ibis  lady^s  face.  It  twitched  liei*  nostrils  open  in  a re* 
markable  manner,  and  contracted  her  lips  and  eyebrows. 
It  was  a smile  of  enjoyment  too,  though  of  such  a fierce 
kind  that  Miss  Wren  thought  she  would  rather  not  enjoy 
herself  than  do  it  in  that  way. 

“ Well  !”  said  tiie  lady,  watching  her.  What  now 

“ I hope  there^s  nothing  the  matter  said  the  dress- 
maker. 

“ Where  V inquired  the  lady.  ^ 

I don’t  know  where,”  said  Miss  Wren,  staring  about 
her.  “ But  I never  heard  such  odd  noises.  Don’t  you 
think  I had  better  call  somebody  ?” 

I think  you  had  better  not,”  returned  the  lady  with 
a significant  frown,  and  drawing  closer. 

On  this  hint  the  dress-maker  relinquished  the  idea,  and 
stood  looking  at  the  lady  as  hard  as  the  lady  looked  at 
her.  Meanwhile  the  dress-maker  listened  with  amaze- 
ment to  the  odd  noises  which  still  continued,  and  the  lady 
listened  too,  but  with  a coolness  in  which  there  was  no 
trace  of  amazement. 

Soon  afterward  came  a slamming  and  banging  of 
doors  ; and  then  came  running  down  stairs  a gentleman 
with  whiskers,  and  out  of  breath,  who  seemed  to  be  red- 
hot. 

Is  your  business  done,  Alfred  ?”  inquired  the  lady. 

Very  thoroughly  done,”  replied  the  gentleman,  as  he 
look  his  hat  from  her. 

You  can  go  up  to  Mr.  Fledgeby  as  soon  as  you  like,” 
said  the  lady,  moving  haughtily  away. 

“Oh  .!  And  you  can  take  these  three  pieces  of  stick 
with  you,”  added  the  gentleinan  politely,  “ and  say,  if 
you  please,  that  they  come  from  ]^r.  Alfred  Lammle, 


OtJB  MtJTUAL 


141 


With  his  compliments  on  leaving  England.  Mr.  Alfred 
Laminlo.  Be  so  good  ns  not  to  forget  the  name.’^ 

The  three  pieces  of  stick  were  three  broken  and  frayed 
fragments  of  a stout  litlic  cane.  Miss  Jenny  taking  them 
woncleringly,  and  the  gentleman  repeating  with  a grin, 
Mr.  Alfred  Lammle,  if  you’ll  be  so  good.  Compliments, 
on  leaving  England,”  the  lady  and  gentleman  walked 
awmy  quite  deliberately,  and  Miss  Jenny  and  her  crutch- 
stick  w’ent  up  stairs.  Lammle,  Lammle,  Lammle 
Miss  Jennie  repeated  as  she  panted  from  stair  to  stair, 
where  have  I heard  that  name  ? Lammle,  Lammle  ? 
I know  ! Saint  Mary  Axe  !” 

With  a gleam  of  new  intelligence  in  her  sharp  face  the 
dolls’  dress- maker  pulled  at  Fledgeby’s  bell.  No  one 
answered  ; but  from  within  the  chambers  there  proceeded 
a continuous  spluttering  sound  of  a highly  singular  and 
unintelligible  nature. 

“ Good  gracious  ! Is  Little  Eyes  choking  ?”  cried 
Miss  Jenny. 

Pulling  at  the  bell  again  and  getting  no  reply,  she 
pushed  the  outer  door,  and  found  it  standing  ajar.  No 
one  being  visible  on  her  opening  it  wider,  and  the  splut- 
tering continuing,  she  took  the  liberty  of  opening  an  inner 
door,  and  then  beheld  the  extraordinary  spectacle  of  Mr. 
Fledgeby  in  a shirt,  a pair  of  Turkish  trowsers,  and  a 
Turkish  cap,  rolling  over  and  over  on  bis  owu  carpet,  and 
spluttering  wonderfully. 

Oh  Lord  !”  gasped  Mr.  Fledgeby.  Oli  my  eye  ! 
Stop  thief!  lam  strangling.  Fire!  Oh  my  eye  ! A 
glass  of  water.  Give  me  a glass  of  water.  Shut  the 
door.  Murder  ! Oh  Lord  1”  Aud  then  rolled  and 
spluttered  more  than  ever. 


143 


otm  MUTUAL  irttem 


IIiiiTying  into  another  room,  Miss  Jenny  got  a glass 
of  water,  and  brought  it  for  Fledgeby^s  relief : who, 
gasping,  spluttering,  and  rattling  in  his  throat  between- 
wliiles,  drank  some  water,  and  laid  his  head  faintly  on  her 
arm. 

“ Ok  my  eye  cried  Fledgeby,  struggling  anew*  “ It’d 
salt  and  snuff.  It's  up  my  nose  and  down  my  throat, 
and  in  my  windpipe.  TJgh  ! Ow  ! Ovv  I Ow  1 Ah— h 
— h — h !"  And  here,  crowing  fearfully,  with  his  eyes 
starting  out  of  his  head,  appeared  to  be  contending  with 
every  mortal  disease  incidental  to  poultry. 

And  Oh  my  eye,  I’m  so  sore  !”  cried  Fledgeby,  start* 
ing  over  on  his  back,  in  a spasmodic  way  that  caused  the 
dress-maker  to  retreat  to  the  wall.  ‘‘  Oh  I smart  so  I 
Do  put  something  to  my  back  and  arms,  and  legs  and 
shoulders.  Ugli  ! It’s  down  my  throat  again  and  can’t 
come  up.  Ow  ! Ow  ! Ow  ! Ah — h — ^h— h ! Oh  I 
smart  so  !”  Here  Mr.  Fledgeby  bounded  up,  and  bound- 
ed down,  and  went  rolling  over  and  over  again. 

The  dolls'  dress-maker  looked  on  until  he  rolled  himself 
into  a corner  with  his  Turkish  slippers  uppermost,  and 
then,  resolving  in  the  first  place  to  address  her  ministra- 
tion to  the  salt  and  snuff,  gave  him  more  water  and 
slapped  bis  back.  But  the  latter  application  was  by  no 
means  a success,  causing  Mr.  Fledgeby  to  scream,  and  to 
cry  out,  Oh  my  eye  ! don’t  slap  me  ! I’m  covered  with 
weales  and  I smart  so  !” 

However,  he  gradually  ceased  to  choke  and  crow,  sav- 
ing at  intervals,  and  Miss  Jenny  got  him  into  an  easy- 
chair  : where,  with  his  eyes  red  and  watery,  with  his 
features  swollen,  and  with  some  half-dozen  livid  bars 
across  his  face,  he  presented  a most  rueful  sight. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


143 


**  What  ever  possessed  you  to  take  salt  and  snuff,  young  • 
man  inquired  Miss  Jenny. 

I didn^t  take  the  dismal  youth  replied.  It  was 
crammed  into  my  mouth.^^ 

Who  crammed  it  asked  Miss  Jenny. 

“ Ho  did/^  answered  Fledgeby.  The  assassin. 
Lammle.  He  rubbed  it  into  my  mouth  and  up  my  nose 
and  down  my  throat — Ovv  ! Ow  ! Ow  ! Ah — h — h — li  ! 
Ugh  ! — to  prevent  my  crying  out,  and  then  cruelly 
assaulted  me.’’ 

'‘With  this?”  asked  Miss  Jenny,  showing  the  pieces 
of  cane. 

“ That’s  the  weapon,”  said  Fledgeby,  eying  it  with  the 
air  of  an  acquaintance.  He  broke  it  over  me.  Oh  I 
smart  so  ! How  did  you  come  by  it  ?” 

“ Wlien  lie  ran  down  stairs  and  joined  the  lady  he  had 
left  in  the  hall  with  his  hat” — Miss  Jenny  began. 

“ Oil  !”  groaned  Fledgeby,  writhing,  “she  was  holding 
his  bat,  was  she  ? I might  have  known  she  was  in  it.” 

“ When  he  came  down  stairs  and  joined  the  lady  who 
wouldn’t  let  me  come  up,  he  gave  me  the  pieces  for  you, 
and  I was  to  say,  ' With  Mr.  Alfred  Lammle’s  compli- 
ments on  his  leaving  England.’”  Miss  Jenny  said  it 
with  such  spiteful  satisfaction,  and  such  a hitch  of  her 
chin  and  eyes  as  might  have  added  to  Mr.  Fledgeby’s 
miseries,  if  he  could  have  noticed  either,  in  his  bodily 
pain  witli  his  hand  to  his  head. 

“ Shall  I go  for  the  police  ?”  inquired  Miss  Jenny,  with 
a nimble  start  toward  the  door. 

“ Stop  ! No,  don’t  1”  cried  Fledgeby.  “ Don’t,  please. 
We  had  better  keep  it  quiet.  W^ill  you  be  so  good  as 
shut  the  door  ? Oh  I do  smart  so  I” 


144 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRrENB. 


In  testimony  of  the  extent  to  which  he  smarted  Mr. 
Fledgebv  came  wallowing  out  of  the  easy-chair  and  took 
another  roll  on  the  carpet. 

Now  the  door’s  shut,'^  said  Mr.  Fledgcby,  sitting  up 
in  anguish,  with  his  Turkish  cap  half  on  and  half  off, 
and  tlic  bars  on  his  face  getting  bluer,  do  me  the  kind- 
ness to  look  at  iny  back  and  shoulders.  They  must  be 
in  an  awful  state,  for  I hadn’t  got  my  dressing-gown  on, 
wlien  the  brute  came  rushing  in.  Cut  my  shirt  away 
from  the  collar  ; there’s  a pair  of  scissors  on  that  table. 
Oh  !”  groaned  Mr.  Fledgeby,  with  his  hand  to  bis  head 
again.  ''  How  I do  smart,  to  be  sure  !” 

" There  ?”  inquired  Miss  Jenny,  alluding  to  the  back 
and  sliouldcrs. 

" Oh,  Lord,  yes  ! ” moaned  Fledgeby,  rocking  himself. 

And  all  over  ! Every  where  !” 

The  busy  little  dress-maker  quickly  snipped  the  shirt 
away,  and  laid  bare  the  results  of  as  furious  and  sound  a 
thrashing  as  even  ^Ir.  Fledgeby  merited.  "You  may 
well  smart,  young  man  !”  exclaimed  Miss  Jenny.  And 
stealthily  rubbed  her  little  hands  behind  him,  and  poked 
a few  exultant  pokes  with  her  two  forefingers  over  the 
crown  of  his  head. 

" What  do  you  think  of  vinegar  and  brown  paper  1’’ 
inquired  the  suffering  Fledgeby,  still  rocking  and  moan- 
ing. " Does  it  look  as  if  vinegar  and  brown  paper  was 
the  sort  of  application  ?” 

" Yes,”  said  Miss  Jenny,  with  a silent  chuckle.  " It 
looks  as  if  it  ought  to  be  Pickled.” 

Mr.  Fledgeby  collapsed  under  the  word  Pickled,”  and 
groaned  again.  " My  kitchen  is  on  tliis  floor,”  he  said  ; 

you’d  find  brown  paper  in  a dresser-drawer  there,  and 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIENT>. 


145 


a bottle  of  vinegar  on  a shelf.  Would  you  have  the 
kindness  to  make  a few  plasters  and  put  ^em  on  ? It  can^t 
be  kept  too  quiet.” 

One,  two — hum — five,  six.  You^l  want  six,”  said 
the  dress-maker. 

**  There’s  smart  enough,”  whimpered  Mr.  Fledgeby, 
groaning  and  writhing  again,  “ for  sixty.” 

Miss  Jenny  repaired  to  the  kitchen,  scissors  in  hand, 
found  the  brown  paper,  and  found  the  vinegar,  and  skill- 
fully cut  out  and  steeped  six  large  plasters.  When  they 
were  all  lying  ready  on  the  dresser,  an  idea  occurred  to 
her  as  she  was  about  to  gather  them  up. 

think,”  said  Miss  Jenny,  with  a silent  laugh,  he 
ought  to  have  a little  pepper  ? J ust  a few  grains  ? I 
think  the  young  man’s  tricks  and  manners  make  a claim 
upon  his  friends  for  a little  pepper  ?” 

Mr.  Fledgeby’s  evil  star  showing  her  the  pepper-box 
on  the  chimney-piece,  she  climbed  upon  a chair  and  got 
it  down,  and  sprinkled  all  the  plasters  with  a judicious 
hand.  She  then  went  back  to  Mr.  Fledgeby  and  stuck 
them  all  on  him  : Mr.  Fledgeby  uttering  a sharp  howl  as 
each  was  put  in  its  place. 

There,  young  man  !”  said  the  dolls’  dress-maker- 
Now  I hope  you  feel  pretty  comfortable  ?” 

Apparently  Mr.  Fledgeby  did  not,  for  he  cried,  by 
way  of  answer,  Oh — h,  how  I do  smart  I” 

Miss  Jenny  got  his  Persian  gown  upon  him,  extinguished 
his  eyes  crookedly  with  his  Persian  cap,  and  helped  him 
to  his  bed  : upon  which  he  climbed  groaning.  Business 
between  you  and  me  being  out  of  the  question  to-day, 
young  man,  and  my  time  being  precious,”  said  Miss  Jenny 


146 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


then,  ril  make  myself  scarce.  Are  you  comfortable 
now  V’ 

Oh  my  eye  I”  cried  Mr.  Fledgeby.  I aiht. 

Oh — h — h ! how  I do  smart  1’’ 

The  last  thing  Miss  Jenny  saw,  as  she  looked  back  be- 
fore closing  the  room-door,  was  Mr.  Fledgeby  in  the  act 
of  plunging  and  gamboling  all  over  his  bed,  like  a por- 
poise or  dolphin  in  its  native  element.  She  then  shut  the 
bedroom  door  and  iu\  the  other  doors,  and  going  down 
stairs  and  emerging  from  tlie  Albany  into  the  busy 
streets,  took  omnibus  for  St.  Mary  Axe  : pressing  on  the 
road  all  the  gaily-dressed  ladies  whom  she  could  see  from 
the  window,  and  making  them  unconscious  lay-figures  for 
dolls,  while  she  mentally  cut  them  out  and  basted  them. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


147 


CHAPTER  IX. 

TWO  PLACES  VACATED. 

Set  down  by  the  omnibus  at  the  corner  of  Saint  Mary 
Axe,  and  trusting  to  her  feet  and  her  crutch-stick  within 
its  precincts,  the  dolls^  dress-maker  proceeded  to  the  place 
of  business  of  Pubsey  & Co.  All  there  was  sunny  and 
quiet  externally,  and  shady  and  quiet  internally.  Hiding 
herself  in  the  entry  outside  the  glass  door,  she  could  see 
from  that  post  of  observation  the  old  man  in  his  spectacles 
sitting  writing  at  his  desk. 

Boh  cried  the  dress-maker,  popping  in  her  head  at 
the  glass-door.  Mr.  Wolf  at  home 

The  old  man  took  his  glasses  off  and  mildly  laid  them 
down  beside  him.  Ahl  Jenny,  is  it  you?  I thought 
you  had  given  me  up.'’ 

^^And  so  I had  given  up  the  treacherous  wolf  of  the 
forest,”  she  replied  ; but,  godmother,  it  strikes  me  you 
have  come  back.  I am  not  quite  sure,  because  the  wolf 
and  you  change  forms.  I want  to  ask  you  a question  or 
two,  to  find  out  whether  you  are  really  godmother  or 
really  wolf.  May  I ?” 

'‘Yes,  Jenny,  yes.”  But  Riah  glanced  toward  the 
door,  as  if  he  thought  his  principal  might  appear  there, 
unseasonably. 

“ If  you’re  afraid  of  the  fox,”  said  Miss  Jenny,  “ you 


148 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEKD. 


may  dismiss  all  present  expectations  of  seeing  that  ani- 
mal. He  won’t  show  himself  abroad  for  many  a day.” 
What  do  you  mean,  my  child  ?” 

I mean,  godmother,”  replied  Miss  Wren,  sitting  down 
beside  the  Jew,  that  the  fox  has  caught  a famous  flog- 
ging, and  that  if  his  skin  and  bones  are  not  tingling, 
aching  and  smarting  at  this  present  instant,  no  fox  did 
ever  tingle,  ache  and  smart.”  Therewith  Miss  Jenny  re- 
lated what  had  come  to  pass  in  the  Albany,  omitting  the 
few  grains  of  pepper. 

Now,  godmother,”  she  went  on,  I particularly  wish 
to  ask  you  what  has  taken  place  here  since  I left  the 
wolf  here  ? Because  I have  an  idea  about  the  size  of  a 
marble  rolling  about  in  my  little  noddle.  First  and  fore- 
most, are  you  Pubsey  and  Co.,  or  are  you  either  ? Upon 
your  solemn  word  and  honor.” 

The  old  man  shook  his  head. 

Secondly,  isn’t  Fledgeby  both  Pubsey  and  Co.  ?” 

The  old  man  answered  with  a relucta-nt  nod. 

**  My  idea,”  exclaimed  Miss  Wrens,  is  now  about  the 
size  of  an  orange.  But  before  it  gets  any  bigger,  wel- 
come back,  dear  godmother  I” 

The  little  creature  folded  her  arms  about  the  old  man’s 
neck  with  great  earnestness,  and  kissed  him.  I humbly 
beg  your  forgiveness,  godmother.  I am  truly  sorry.  I 
ought  to  have  had  more  faith  in  you.  But  what  could  I 
suppose  when  you  said  nothing  for  yourself,  you  know  ? 
I don’t  mean  to  offer  that  as  a justification,  but  what 
could  I suppose  when  you  were  a silent  party  to  all  he 
said  ? It  did  look  bad  ; now  didn’t  it  ?” 

It  looked  so  bad,  Jenny,”  responded  the  old  man, 
with  gravity,  that  I will  straightway  tell  you  what  an 


CUE  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


149 


impression  it  wrought  upon  me.  I was  hateful  in  mine 
own  eyes.  I was  hateful  to  myself,  in  being  so  hateful 
to  the  debtor  and  to  you.  But  more  than  that,  and 
worse  than  that,  and  to  pass  out  far  and  broad  beyond 
myself — I reflected  that  evening,  sitting  alone  in  my  gar- 
den on  the  house-top,  that  I was  doing  dishonor  to  my 
ancient  faith  and  race.  I reflected — clearly  reflected  for 
the  first  time — that  in  bending  my  neck  to  the  yoke  I 
was  willing  to  wear,  I bent  the  unwilling  necks  of  the 
whole  Jewish  people.  For  it  is  not,  in  Christian  coun- 
tries, with  the  Jews  as  with  other  peoples.  Men  say, 
* This  is  a bad  Greek,  but  there  are  good  Greeks.  This 
is  a bad  Turk,  but  there  are  good  Turks.'  Not  so  with 
the  Jews.  Men  find  the  bad  among  us  easily  enough — 
among  what  peoples  are  the  bad  not  easily  found  ? — but 
they  take  the  worst  of  us  as  samples  of  the  best : they 
take  the  lowest  of  us  as  presentations  of  the  highest ; and 
they  say,  ‘ All  Jews  are  alike.'  If,  doing  what  I was  content 
to  do  here,  because  I was  grateful  for  the  past  and  have 
small  need  of  money  now,  I had  been  a Christian,  I could 
have  done  it,  compromising  no  one  but  my  individual  self. 
But  doing  it  as  a Jew,  I could  not  choose  but  compro- 
mise the  Jews  of  all  conditions  and  all  countries.  It  is 
a little  hard  upon  us,  but  it  is  the  truth.  I would  that 
all  our  people  remembered  it ! Though  I have  little 
right  to  say  so,  seeing  that  it  came  home  so  late  to  me." 

The  dolls'  dress-maker  sat  holding  the  old  man  by  the 
hand,  and  looking  thoughtfully  in  his  face. 

“ Thus  I reflected,  I say,  sitting  that  evening  in  my 
garden  on  the  house-top.  And  passing  the  painful  scene 
of  that  day  in  review  before  me  many  times,  I always 
saw  that  the  poor  gentleman  believed  the  story  readily, 


150 


OUK  MUTUAL  FRIEITB. 


because  I was  one  of  the  Jews — that  you  believed  the 
story  readily,  my  child,  because  I was  one  of  the  Jews 
— that  the  story  itself  first  came  into  the  invention  of 
the  originator  thereof,  because  I was  one  of  the  Jews. 
This  was  the  result  of  my  having  had  you  three  before 
me,  face  to  face,  and  seeing  the  thing  visibly  presented  as 
upon  a theatre.  Wherefore  I perceived  that  the  obliga- 
tion was  upon  me  to  leave  this  service.  But  Jenny, 
my  dear,^^  said  Eiah,  breaking  off,  I promised 
that  you  should  pursue  your  questions,  and  I obstruct 
them.” 

On  the  contrary,  godmother  ; my  idea  is  as  large 
now  as  a pumpkin — and  you  know  what  a pumpkin  is, 
don’t  you?  So  you  gave  notice  that  you  were  going? 
Does  that  come  next  ?”  asked  Miss  Jenny,  with  a look 
of  close  attention. 

I indited  a letter  to  my  master.  Yes.  To  that 
effect.” 

And  what  said  Tingling-Tossing-Aching-Screaming- 
Scratching-Smarter  ?”  asked  Miss  Wren,  with  an  un- 
speakable enjoyment  in  the  utterance  of  those  honorable 
titles  and  in  the  recollection  of  the  pepper. 

He  held  me  to  certain  months  of  servitude,  which 
were  his  lawful  term  of  notice.  They  expire  to-morrow. 
Upon  their  expiration — not  before — I had  meant  to  set 
myself  right  with  my  Cinderella.” 

My  idea  is  getting  so  immense  now,”  cried  Miss 
Wren,  clasping  her  temples,  **  that  my  head  won’t  bold 
it  1 Listen,  godmother  ; I am  going  to  expound.  Little 
E^^es  (that’s  Screaming-Scratching-Smarter)  owes  you  a 
heavy  grudge  for  going.  Little  Eyes  casts  about  how 
best  to  pay  you  off.  Little  Eyes  thinkw  of  Lizzie.  Lit- 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


151 


tk  Eyes  says  to  bimself,  * PIl  find  out  where  he  has 
placed  tliat  girl,  and  III  betray  his  secret  because  it’s 
dear  to  him.’  Perhaps  Little  Eyes  thinks,  ^ I’ll  make 
love  to  her  myself  too  ;’  but  that  I can’t  swear — all  the 
rest  I can.  So,  Little  Eyes  comes  to  me,  and  I go  to 
Little  Eyes.  That’s  the  way  of  it.  And  now  the  mur- 
der’s all  out,  I’m  sorry,”  added  the  dolls’  dress-maker,  rigid 
from  head  to  foot  with  energy  as  she  shook  her  little  fist 
before  her  eyes,  that  I didn’t  give  him  Cayenne  pepper 
and  chopped  pickled  Capsicum  1” 

This  expression  of  regret  being  but  partially  intelligi- 
ble to  Mr.  Riah,  the  old  man  reverted  to  the  injuries 
Eledgeby  had  received,  and  hinted  at  the  necessity  of  his 
at  once  going  to  tend  that  beaten  cur. 

Godmother,  godmother,  godmother  I”  cried  Miss 
Wren,  irritably,  “I  really  lose  all  patience  with  you. 
One  would  think  you  believed  in  the  Good  Samaritan. 
How  can  you  be  so  inconsistent  ?” 

“ Jenny,  dear,”  began  the  old  man  gently,  it  is  the 
custom  of  our  people  to  help—” 

'‘Oh  ! Bother  your  people  I”  interposed  Miss  Wren, 
with  a toss  of  her  head.  "If  your  people  don’t  know 
better  than  to  go  and  help  Little  Eyes,  it’s  a pity  they 
ever  got  out  of  Egypt.  Over  and  above  that,”  she 
added,  "he  wouldn’t  take  your  help  if  you  offered  it. 
Too  much  ashamed.  Wants  to  keep  it  close  and  quiet, 
and  to  keep  you  out  of  the  way.” 

They  were  still  debating  this  point  when  a shadow 
darkened  the  entry,  and  the  glass  door  was  opened  by  a 
messenger  who  brought  a letter  unceremoniously  ad- 
dressed, " Riah.”  To  which  he  said  there  was  an 
answer  wanted. 


152 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


The  letter,  whicli  was  scrawled  in  pencil  up  hill  and 
down  hill  and  round  crooked  corners,  ran  thus  : 

“ Old  Riah, — Your  accounts  being  all  squared,  go. 
Shut  up  the  place,  turn  out  directly,  and  send  me  the 
key  by  bearer.  Go.  You  are  an  unthankful  dog  of  a 
Jew.  Get  out.  F.” 

The  dolls^  dress-maker  found  it  delicious  to  trace  the 
screaming  and  smarting  of  Little  Eyes  in  the  distorted 
writing  of  this  epistle.  She  laughed  over  it  and  jeered 
at  it  in  a convenient  corner  (to  the  great  astonishment  of 
the  messenger)  while  the  old  man  got  his  few  goods  toge- 
ther in  a black  bag.  That  done,  the  shutters  of  the 
upper  windows  closed,  and  the  office  blind  pulled  down, 
they  issued  forth  upon  the  steps  with  the  attendant  mes- 
senger. There,  while  Miss  Jenny  held  the  bag,  the  old 
mnn  locked  the  house  door,  and  handed  over  the  key  to 
liiin  ; who  at  once  retired  with  the  same. 

‘‘Well,  godmother,^^  said  Miss  Wren,  as  they  remained 
upon  the  steps  together,  looking  at  one  another.  “ And 
so  yoifre  thrown  upon  the  world 

“It  would  appear  so,  Jenny,  and  somewhat  sud- 
denly.^^ 

“ Where  are  you  going  to  seek  your  fortune  asked 
Miss  Wren. 

The  old  man  smiled,  but  looked  about  him  with  a look 
of  having  lost  his  way  in  life,  which  did  not  escape  tlio 
dolls^  dress-maker. 

“ Yerily,  Jenny said  he,  “ the  question  is  to  the  pur- 
pose, and  more  easily  asked  than  answered.  But  as  I 
have  experience  of  the  ready  good-will  and  good  help  of 


OtJU  MUTUAL  FBIEND. 


15S 


those  who  have  given  occupation  to  Lizzie,  I think  I will 
seek  them  out  for  myself  ” 

On  foot  V’  asked  Miss  Wren,  with  a chop. 

Ay  said  the  old  man.  “ Have  I not  my  staff 

It  was  exactly  because  he  had  bis  staff,  and  presented 
so  quaint  an  aspect,  that  she  mistrusted  his  making  the 
journey. 

The  best  thing  you  can  do,”  said  Jenny,  for  the 
time  being,  at  all  events,  is  to  come  home  with  me,  god- 
mother. Nobody^s  there  but  my  bad  child,  and  Lizzie’s 
lodging  stands  empty.”  The  old  man  when  satisfied  that 
no  inconvenience  could  be  entailed  on  any  one  by  his 
compliance,  readily  complied  ; and  the  singularly-assorted 
couple  once  more  went  through  the  streets  together. 

Now,  the  bad  child  having  been  strictly  charged  by 
his  parent  to  remain  at  home  in  her  absence,  of  course 
went  out ; and,  being  in  the  very  last  stage  of  mental 
decrepitude,  went  out  with  two  objects  : firstly,  to  estab- 
lish a claim  he  conceived  himself  to  have  upon  any 
licensed  victualer  living,  to  be  supplied  with  threepenny- 
worth  of  rum  for  nothing  ; and,  secondly,  to  bestow 
some  maudlin  remorse  on  Mr.  Eugene  Wrayburn,  and 
see  what  profit  came  of  it.  Stumblingly  pursuing  these 
two  designs — they  both  meant  rum,  the  only  meaning  of 
which  he  was  capable — the  degraded  creature  staggered 
into  Co  vent  Garden  Market  and  there  bivouacked,  to 
have  an  attack  of  the  trembles  succeeded  by  an  attack  of 
the  horrors,  in  a doorway. 

This  market  of  Covent  Garden  was  quite  out  the 
creature’s  line  of  road,  but  it  had  the  attraction  for  him 
which  it  has  for  the  worst  of  the  solitary  members  of  the 
drunken  tribe.  It  may  be  the  companionship  of  the 
I* 


164 


OtJR  MUTUAL  friend. 


nightly  stir,  or  it  may  be  the  companionship  of  the  gin  and 
beer  that  slop  about  among  carters  and  hucksters,  or  it 
may  be  the  companionship  of  the  trodden  vegetable 
refuse,  which  is  so  like  their  own  dress  that  perhaps  they 
take  the  Market  for  a great  wardrobe  ; but  be  it  what  it 
may,  you  shall  see  no  such  individual  drunkards  on  door- 
steps any  where  as  there.  Of  dozing  women-drunkards 
especially,  you  shall  come  upon  such  specimens  there,  in 
the  morning  sunlight,  as  you  might  seek  out  of  doors  in 
vain  through  Loudon.  Such  stale,  vapid,-  rejected  cab- 
bagedeaf  and  cabbage-stalk  dress  ; such  damaged  orange 
countenance  ; such  squashed  pulp  of  humanity,  are  open 
to  the  day  nowhere  else.  So  the  attraction  of  the  Mar- 
ket drew  Mr.  Dolls  to  it,  and  he  had  out  his  two  fits  of 
trembles  and  horrors  in  a doorway  on  which  a woman 
had  had  out  her  sodden  nap  a few  hours  before. 

There  is  a swarm  of  young  savages  always  flitting 
about  this  same  place,  creeping  olf  with  fragments  of 
orange-chests,  and  mouldy  litter — Heaven  knows  into 
what  holes  they  can  convey  them,  having  no  home  I — 
whose  bare  feet  fall  with  a blunt,  dull  softness  on  the 
pavement  as  the  policeman  hunts  them,  and  who  ate 
(^perhaps  for  that  reason)  little  heard  of  by  the  Powers 
that  be,  whereas  in  top-boots  they  would  make  a deafening 
clatter.  These,  delighting  in  the  trembles  and  the  hor- 
rors of  Mr.  Dolls,  as  in  a gratuitous  drama,  flocked 
about  him  in  his  doorway,  butted  at  him,  leaped  at  him, 
and  pelted  him.  Hence,  when  he  came  out  of  his  invalid 
retirement  and  shook  off  that  ragged  train,  he  was  much 
bespattered,  and  in  worse  case  than  ever.  But  not  yet  at  his 
worst ; for,  going  into  a public  house,  and  being  supplied 
in  stress  of  business  with  his  rum,  and  seeking  to  vanish 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


155 


without  payment,  he  w^as  collared,  searched,  found  pennh 
less,  and  admonished  not  to  try  that  again,  by  having  a 
pail  of  dirty  water  cast  over  him.  This  application 
superinduced  another  fit  of  the  trembles  ; after  which 
Mr.  Dolls,  as  finding  himself  in  good  cue  for  making  a 
call  on  a professional  friend,  addressed  liimself  to  the 
Temple. 

There  was  nobody  at  the  chambers  but  Yoting  Blight. 
That  discreet  youth,  sensible  of  a certain  incongruity  in 
the  association  of  such  a client  with  tlie  business  that 
might  be  coming  some  day,  with  the  best  intentions  tem- 
porized with  Dolls,  and  offered  a shilling  for  coach-hire 
home.  Mr.  Dolls,  accepting  the  shilling,  promptly  laid 
it  out  in  two  threepennyworths  of  conspiracy  against  his 
life,  and  two  threepennyworths  of  raging  repentance. 
Returning  to  the  chambers  with  which  burden,  he  was 
descried  coming  round  into  the  court  by  the  wary  young 
Blight  watching  from  the  window  : who  instantly  closed 
the  outer  door,  and  left  the  miserable  object  to  expend 
his  fury  on  tlie  panels. 

The  more  the  door  resisted  him  the  more  dangerous 
and  imminent  became  that  bloody  conspiracy  against  his 
life.  Force  of  police  arriving,  he  recognized  in  them  the 
conspirators,  and  laid  about  him  hoarsely,  fiercely,  star- 
ingly,  convulsively,  foamiugly.  A humble  machine,  fami- 
liar to  the  conspirators,  and  called  by  the  expressive 
name  of  Stretcher,  being  unavoidably  sent  for,  he  was 
rendered  a harmless  bundle  of  torn  rags  by  being  strapped 
down  upon  it,  with  voice  and  consciousness  gone  out  of 
him,  and  life  fast  going.  As  this  machine  was  borne  out 
at  the  temple  gate  by  four  men,  the  poor  little  dolls^  dress 
maker  and  her  Jewish  friend  were  coming  up  the  street. 


156 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRTENB. 


''  Let  us  see  what  it  is/*  cried  the  dress-maker.  “ Let 
us  make  haste  and  look,  godmother.” 

The  brisk  little  crutch-stick  was  but  too  brisk.  **  Oh, 
gentlemen,  gentlemen,  he  belongs  to  me  !” 

‘‘  Belongs  to  you  ?”  said  the  head  of  the  party,  sto}> 
ping  it. 

Oh  yes,  dear  gentlemen,  he^s  my  child,  out  without 
leave.  My  poor,  bad,  bad  boy  ! and  he  don’t  know  me, 
he  donT  know  me  ! Oh,  what  sliali  I do,”  cried  the  lit- 
tle creature,  wildly  beating  her  hands  together,  when 
my  own  child  donT  know  me  !” 

The  head  of  the  party  looked  (as  w^ell  he  might)  to  the 
old  man  for  explanation.  He  whispered,  as  the  dolls^ 
dress-maker  bent  over  the  exhausted  form,  and  vainly 
tried  to  extract  some  sign  of  recognition  from  it  : It^s 

her  drurfken  father.” 

As  the  load  w^as  put  down  in  the  street,  Riah  drew  the 
head  of  the  party  aside,  and  whispered  that  he  thought 
the  man  was  dying.  No,  surely  not  ?”  returned  the 
other.  But  he  became  less  confident  on  looking,  and  di- 
rected the  bearers  to  bring  him  to  the  nearest  doc- 
tor’s shop.” 

Thither  he  was  brought  ; the  window  becoming  from 
within  a wall  of  faces,  deformed  into  all  kinds  of  shapes 
through  the  agency  of  globular  red  bottles,  green  bot- 
tles, blue  bottles,  and  other  colored  bottles.  A ghastly 
light  shining  upon  him  that  he  didn’t  need,  the  beast  so 
furious  but  a few  minutes  gone,  was  quiet  enough  now, 
with  a strange,  mysterious  writing  on  his  face,  reflected 
from  one  of  the  great  bottles,  as  if  Death  had  marked 
him  : “ Mine.” 

Tiie  medical  testimony  was  more  precise  and  more  to 


OTTR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


1ST 


the  purpose  than  it  sometimes  is  in  a Court  of  Justice. 
“ You  had  better  send  for  something  to  cover  it.  AlFs 
over.^^ 

Therefore  the  police  sent  for  something  to  cover  it,  and 
it  was  covered  and  borne  through  the  streets,  the  people 
falling  away.  After  it  went  the  dolls^  dress-maker,  hid- 
ing her  face  in  the  Jewish  skirts,  and  clinging  to  them 
with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  she  plied  her  stick. 
It  was  carried  home,  and,  by  reason  that  the  staircase 
was  very  narrow,  it  was  put  down  in  the  parlor — the 
little  working-bench  being  set  aside  to  make  room  for  it — 
and  there,  in  the  midst  of  the  dolls  with  no  speculation 
in  their  eyes,  lay  Mr.  Dolls  with  no  speculation  in 
his. 

Many  flaunting  dolls  had  to  be  gaily  dressed  before  the 
money  was  in  the  dress-maker’s  pocket  to  get  mourning 
for  Mr.  Dolls.  As  the  old  man,  Riah,  sat  by,  helping 
her  in  such  small  ways  as  he  could,  he  found  it  difficult 
to  make  out  whether  she  really  did  realize  that  the  de- 
ceased  had  been  her  father. 

If  my  poor  boy,”  she  would  say,  ‘‘had  bhen  brought 
up  better,  he  might  have  done  better.  Not  that  I re- 
proach myself.  I hope  I have  no  cause  for  that.” 

“ None,  indeed,  Jenny,  I am  very  certain.” 

“ Thank  you,  godmother.  It  cheers  me  to  hear  you 
say  so.  But  you  see  it  is  so  hard  to  bring  up  a child 
well,  when  you  work,  work,  work,  all  day.  When  he 
was  out  of  employment  I couldn’t  always  keep  him  near 
Hie.  He  got  fractious  and  nervous,  and  I was  obliged  to 
let  him  go  into  the  streets.  And  he  never  did  well  in  the 
streets,  he  never  did  well  out  of  sight.  How  often  it 
happens  with  children  !” 


158 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


Too  often  even  in  this  sad  sense  I”  thought  the  old 
man. 

How  can  I say  what  I might  have  turned  out  my- 
self, but  for  my  back  having  *been  so  bad  and  my  legs  so 
queer,  when  I was  young  the  dress-maker  would  go 
on.  I had  nothing  to  do  but  work,  and  so  I worked. 
I couldn^t  play.  But  my  poor  unfortunate  child  could 
play,  and  it  turned  out  the  worse  for  him.^^ 

And  not  for  him  alone,  Jenny.” 

Well ! I don’t  know,  godmother.  He  suffered  hea- 
vily, did  my  unfortunate  boy.  He  was  very,  very  ill 
sometimes.  And  I called  him  a quantity  of  names 
shaking  her  head  over  her  work,  and  dropping  tears. 
**  1 don’t  know  that  his  going  wrong  was  much  the  worse 
for  me.  If  it  ever  was,  let  us  forget  it.” 

‘‘  You  are  a good  girl,  you  are  a patient  girl.” 

As  for  patience,”  she  would  reply  with  a shrug,  not 
much  of  that,  godmother.  If  I had  been  patient  I 
should  never  have  called  him  names.  But  I hope  I did 
it  for  his  good.  And  besides,  I felt  my  responsibility  as 
a mother  so  much.  I tried  reasoning,  and  reasoning 
failed.  I tried  coaxing,  and  coaxing  failed.  I tried 
scolding,  and  scolding  failed.  But  I was  bound  to  try 
every  thing,  you  know,  with  such  a charge  upon  my  hands. 
Where  would  have  been  my  duty  to  my  poor  lost  boy,  if 
I had  not  tried  everything  !” 

With  such  talk,  mostly  in  a cheerful  tone  on  the  part 
of  the  industrious  little  creature,  the  day-work  and  the 
night- work  were  beguiled  until  enough  of  smart  dolls  had 
gone  forth  to  bring  into  the  kitchen,  where  the  working- 
bench  now  stood,  the  sombre  stuff  that  the  occasion  re- 
quired, and  to  bring  into  the  house  the  other  sombre  pre- 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


159 


parations.  And  now/^  said  Miss  Jenny,  having  knocked 
off  niy  rosy-cheeked  young  friends,  III  knock  off  my 
white-cheeked  self.”  This  referred  to  her  making  her 
own  dress,  which  at  last  was  done.  “ The  disadvantage 
of  making  for  yourself,”  said  Miss  Jenny,  as  she  stood 
upon  a chair  to  look  at  the  result  in  the  glass,  is,  that 
you  caift  charge  any  body  else  for  the  job,  and  the  ad- 
vantage is,  tliat  you  havenT  to  go  out  to  try  on.  Humph  ! 
Yery  fair  indeed  ! If  He  could  see  me  now  (whoever  he 
is)  I hope  he  wouldn’t  repent  of  his  bargain  !” 

The  simple  arrangements  were  of  her  own  making,  and 
were  stated  to  Hiah  thus  : 

I mean  to  go  alone,  godmother,  in  my  usual  carriage, 
and  you’ll  be  so  kind  as  keep  house  while  I am  gone. 
It’s  not  far  off.  And  when  I return  we’ll  have  a cup  of 
tea,  and  a chat  over  future  arrangements.  It’s  a very 
plain  last  house  that  I have  been  able  to  give  my  poor 
unfortunate  boy  ; but  he’ll  accept  the  will  for  the  deed, 
if  he  knows  anything  about  it  ; and  if  he  doesn’t  know 
anything  about  it,”  with  a sob,  and  wiping  her  eyes, 
why,  it  won’t  matter  to  him.  I see  the  service  in  the 
Prayer-book  says,  that  we  brought  nothing  into  this 
world,  and  it  is  certain  we  can  take  nothing  out.  It  com- 
forts me  for  not  being  able  to  hire  a lot  of  stupid  under- 
taker’s things  for  my  poor  child,  and  seeming  as  if  I was 
trying  to  smuggle  ’em  out  of  this  world  with  him,  when 
of  course  I must  break 'down  in  the  attempt,  and  bring 
’em  all  back  again.  As  it  is,  there’ll  be  nothing  to  bring 
back  but  me,  and  that’s  quite  consistent,  for  I sha’n’t  be 
brought  back,  some  day  !” 

After  that  previous  carrying  of  him  in  the  streets,  the 
wretched  old  fellow  seemed  to  be  twice  buried.  He  was 


160 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


taken  on  the  shoulders  of  half  a dozen  blossom-faced  men, 
who  shuffled  with  him  to  the  church-yard,  and  who  were 
preceded  by  another  blossom-faced  man,  affecting  a stately 
stalk,  as  if  he  were  a Policeman  of  the  D(eath)  Division, 
and  ceremoniously  pretending  not  to  know  his  intimate 
acquaintances,  as  he  led  the  pageant.  Yet,  the  spec- 
tacle of  only  one  little  mourner  hobbling  after,  caused 
many  people  to  turn  their  heads  with  a look  of  inter- 
est. 

At  last  the  troublesome  deceased  was  gone  into  the 
ground,  to  be  buried  no  more,  and  the  stately  stalker 
stalked  back  before  the  solitary  dress-maker,  as  if  she 
were  bound  in  honor  to  have  no  notion  of  the  way  home. 
Those  Furies,  the  conventionalities,  being  thus  appeased, 
he  left  her. 

I must  have  a very  short  cry,  godmother,  before  I 
cheer  up  for  good,”  said  the  little  creature,  coming  in. 

Because  after  all  a child  is  a child,  you  know.” 

It  was  a longer  cry  than  might  have  been  expected. 
Howbeit,  it  wore  itself  out  in  a shadowy  corner,  and 
then  the  dressmaker  came  forth,  and  washed  her  face,  and 
made  the  tea.  You  wouldn^t  mind  my  cutting  out 
something  while  we  are  at  tea,  would  you  ?”  she  asked  her 
Jewish  friend,  with  a coaxing  air. 

“Cinderella,  dear  child,”  the  old  man  expostulated, 
“ will  you  never  rest  ?” 

“ Oh  I ICs  not  work,  cutting  out  a pattern  isn%^' 
said  Miss  Jenny,  with  her  busy  little  scissors  already 
snipping  at  some  paper.  “ The  truth  is,  godmother,  I 
want  to  fix  it  while  I have  it  correct  in  my  mind.” 

“ Have  you  seen  it  to-day,  then  ?”  asked  Riah. 

“ Yes,  godmother.  Saw  it  just  now.  IPs  a surplice, 


OUB  MUTUAL  FBIEND. 


161 


that’s  what  it  is.  Thing  our  clergymen  wear,  you  know,” 
explained  Miss  Jenny,  in  consideration  of  his  professing 
another  faith. 

“ And  what  have  you  to  do  with  that,  Jenny  ?” 

Why,  godmother,”  replied  the  dress-maker,  **  you 
must  know  that  we  Professors,  who  live  upon  our  taste 
and  invention,  are  obliged  to  keep  our  eyes  always  open. 
And  you  know  already  that  I have  many  extra  expenses 
to  meet  just  now.  So,  it  came  into  my  head'^while  I was 
weeping  at  my  poor  boy’s  grave,  that  something  in  my 
way  might  be  done  with  a clergyman.” 

What  can  be  done  ?”  asked  the  old  man. 

Not  a funeral,  never  fear  !”  returned  Miss  Jenny, 
anticipating  his  objection  with  a nod.  The  public 
don’t  like  to  be  made  melancholy,  I know  very  well.  I 
am  seldom  called  upon  to  put  my  young  friends  into 
mourning  ; not  into  real  mourning,  that  is  ; Court  mourn- 
ing they  are  rather  proud*  of.  But  a doll  clergyman, 
my  dear — glossy  black  curls  and  whiskers — uniting  two 
of  my  young  friends  in  matrimony,”  said  Miss  Jenny, 
shaking  her  forefinger,  is  quite  another  affair.  If  you 
don’t  see  those  three  at  the  altar  in  Bond  Street,  in  a 
jiffy,  my  name’s  Jack  Robinson  !” 

With  her  expert  little  ways  in  sharp  action,  she  had 
got  a doll  into  whitey-brown  paper  orders  before  the  meal 
was  over,  and  was  displaying  it  for  the  edification  of  the 
Jewish  mind,  when  a knock  was  heard  at  the  street-door. 
Riah  went  to  open  it,  and  presently  came  back,  ushering 
in,  with  the  grave  and  courteous  air  that  sat  so  well  upon 
him,  a gentleman. 

The  gentleman  was  a stranger  to  the  dress-maker  ; but 
even  in  the  moment  of  his  casting  his  eyes  upon  her,  there 


162 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


was  something  in  his  manner  which  brought  to  her  re- 
membrance Mr.  Eugene  Wrayburu. 

Pardon  me/’  said  the  gentleman.  You  are  the 
dolls’  dress-maker  ?” 

I am  the  dolls’  dress-maker,  Sir.” 

Lizzie  Hexam’s  friend  ?” 

*^Yes,  Sir,”  replied  Miss  Jenny,  instantly  on  the  de- 
fensive. “And  Lizzie  Hexam’s  friend.” 

“ Here  is -a  note  from  her,  entreating  you  to  accede  to 
the  request  of  Mr.  Mortimer  Lightwood,  the  bearer. 
Mr.  Kiah  chances  to  know  that  I am  Mr.  Mortimer 
Lightwood,  and  will  tell  you  so.” 

Riah  bent  his  head  in  corroboration. 

“Will  you  read  the  note ?” 

“ It’s  very  short,”  said  Jenny,  with  a look  of  wonder, 
when  she  had  read  it. 

“ There  was  no  time  to  make  it  longer.  Time  was 
60  very  precious.  My  dear  friend  Mr.  Eugene  Wray- 
burn  is  dying.” 

The  dress-maker  clasped  her  hands,  and  uttered  a 
little  piteous  cry. 

“ Is  dying,”  repeated  Lightwood,  with  emotion,  “ at 
some  distance  from  here.  He  is  sinking  under  injuries 
received  at  the  hands  of  a villain  who  attacked  him 
in  the  dark.  I come  straight  from  his  bedside.  He  is 
almost  always  insensible.  In  a short  restless  interval 
of  sensibility,  or  partial  sensibility,  I made  out  that  he 
asked  for  you  to  be  brought  to  sit  by  him.  Hardly 
relying  on  my  own  interpretation  of  the  indistinct 
sounds  he  made,  I caused  Lizzie  to  hear  them.  We 
were  both  sure  that  he  asked  for  you.” 

The  dress-maker,  with  her  hands  Btill  clasped,  look- 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


163 


ed  affrightedly  from  the  one  to  the  other  of  her  two 
companions. 

If  you  delay,  he  may  die  with  his  request  ungratifi- 
ed, with  his  last  wish — intrusted  to  me — we  have  long 
been  much  more  than  brothers — unfulfilled.  I shall 
break  down,  if  I try  to  say  moi:e.’^ 

In  a few  moments  the  black  bonnet  and  the  crutch- 
stick  were  on  duty,  the  good  Jew  was  left  in  posses- 
sion of  the  house,  and  the  dolls’  dress-maker,  side  by 
side  in  a chaise  with  Mortimer  Lightwood,  was  posting 
out  of  town. 


1G4 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  DOLLS^  DRESS-MAKER  DISCOVERS  A WORD. 

A DARKENED  and  hushed  room  ; the  river  outside  the 
windows  flowing  on  to  the  vast  ocean ; a figure  on  the 
bed,  swathed  and  bandaged  and  bound,  lying  helpless 
on  its  back,  with  its  two  useless  arms  in  splints  at  its 
sides.  Only  two  days  of  usage  so  familiarized  the  little 
dress-maker  with  this  scene,  that  it  held  the  place  oc- 
cupied two  days  ago  by  the  recollections  of  years. 

He  had  scarcely  moved  since  her  arrival.  Some- 
times his  eyes  were  open,  sometimes  closed.  When 
they  were  open,  there  was  no  meaning  in  their  un- 
winking stare  at  one  spot  straight  before  them,  unless 
for  a moment  the  brow  knitted  into  a faint  expression 
of  anger,  or  surprise.  Then,  Mortimer  Lightwood 
would  speak  to  him,  and  on  occasions  he  would  be  so 
far  roused  as  to  make  an  attempt  to  pronounce  his 
friend^s  name.  But,  in  an  instant  consciousness  was 
gone  again,  and  no  spirit  of  Eugene  was  in  Eugene^s 
crushed  outer  form. 

They  provided  J enny  with  materials  for  plying  her 
work,  and  she  had  a little  table  placed  at  the  foot  of 
his  bed.  Sitting  there,  with  her  rich  shower  of  hair 
falling  over  the  chair-back,  they  hoped  she  might  at- 
tract his  notice.  With  the  same  object,  she  would 
sing,  just  above  her  breath,  when  he  opened  his  eyes, 


OUB  MUTUAL  FBIEND. 


165 


or  she  saw  his  brow  knit  into  that  faint  expression,  so 
evanescent  that  it  was  like  a shape  made  in  water. 
But  as  yet  he  had  not  heeded.  The  they^’  here  men- 
tioned were  the  medical  attendant  ; Lizzie,  who  was 
there  in  all  her  intervals  of  rest  : and  Lightwood,  who 
never  left  him. 

The  two  days  became  three,  and  the  three  days  be- 
came four.  At  length,  quite  unexpectedly,  he  said 
something  in  a whisper. 

IVhat  was  it,  my  dear  Eugene 
‘‘  Will  you,  Mortimer — 

Will  I—  V’ 

— “ Send  for  her  ?’^ 

My  dear  fellow,  she  is  here.^^ 

Quite  unconscious  of  the  long  blank,  he  supposed 
that  they  were  still  speaking  together. 

The  little  dress-maker  stood  up  at  the  foot  of  the 
bed,  humming  her  song,  and  nodded  to  him  brightly. 
‘‘I  can’t  shake  hands,  Jenny,”  said  Eugene,  with 
something  of  his  old  look ; “but  I am  very  glad  to 
see  you.” 

Mortimer  repeated  this  to  her,  for  it  could  only  be 
made  out  by  bending  over  him  and  closely  watching 
his  attempts  to  say  it.  In  a little  while  he  added  : 

- “ Ask  her  if  she  has  seen  the  children.” 

Mortimer  ct>uld  not  understand  this,  neither  could 
Jenny  herself,  until  he  added: 

“ Ask  her  if  she  has  smelt  the  flowers.” 

“ Oh  ! I know  1”  cried  Jenny.  “ I understand  him 
now  !”  Then  Lightwood  yielded  his  place  to  her 
quick  approach,  and  she  said,  bending  over  the  bed, 
with  that  better  look  : “ You  mean  my  long  bright 


166 


OUR  MUTUAL  FBTEKB/ 


slanting  rows  of  children,  who  used  to  bring  me  ease 
and  rest  ? You  mean  the  children  who  used  to  take 
me  up,  and  make  me  light 

Eugene  smiled,  Yes.’^ 

**  I have  not  seen  them  since  I saw  you.  I never 
see  them  now,  but  I am  hardly  ever  in  pain  now.” 

It  was  a pretty  fancy,”  said  Eugene. 

But  I have  heard  my  birds  sing,”  cried  the  little 
creature,  **  and  I have  smelt  my  flowers.  Yes,  indeed 
I have  1 And  both  w^ere  most  beautiful  and  most 
Divine  !” 

“ Stay  and  help  to  nurse  me,”  said  Eugene,  quietly. 

I should  like  you  to  have  the  fancy  here,  before  I 
die.” 

She  touched  his  lips  with  her  hand,  and  shaded  her 
eyes  with  that  same  hand  as  she  went  back  to  her 
work  and  her  little  low  song.  He  heard  the  song  with 
evident  pleasure,  until  she  allowed  it  gradually  to  sink 
away  into  silence. 

‘‘  Mortimer.” 

My  dear  Eugene.” 

“ If  you  can  give  me  any  thing  to  keep  me  here  for 
only  a few  minutes — ” 

To  keep  you  here,  Eugene  ?” 

“ To  prevent  my  wandering  away  I don^t  know 
where — for  I begin  to  bo  sensible  that  I have  just 
come  back,  and  that  I shall  lose  myself  again — do  so, 
dear  boy  !” 

Mortimer  gave  him  such  stimulants  as  could  be 
given  him  with  safety  (they  were  always  at  hand, 
ready),  and  bending  over  him  once  more,  was  about 
to  caution  him,  when  he  said  : 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


167 


Don’t  tell  mo  not  to  speak,  for  I must  speak.  If 
you  knew  the  harassing  anxiety  that  gnaws  and  wears 
me  when  I am  wandering  in  those  places — where  are 
those  endless  places,  Mortimer  ? They  must  be  at  an 
immense  distance  !” 

He  saw  in  his  friend’s  face  that  he  was  losing  him- 
self ; for  he  added  after  a moment : “Don’t  be  afraid 
— I am  not  gone  yet.  What  was  it  ?” 

“ You  wanted  to  tell  me  something,  Eugene.  My 
230or  dear  fellow,  you  wanted  to  say  something  to  your 
old  friend — to  the  friend  who  has  always  loved  you, 
admired  you,  imitated  you,  founded  himself  upon  you, 
been  nothing  without  you,  and  who,  God  knows,  would 
be  here  in  your  place  if  he  could  1” 

“ Tut,  tut  I”  said  Eugene,  with  a tender  glance  as 
the  other  put  his  hand  before  his  face.  “ I am  nO‘t 
worth  it.  I acknowledge  that  I like  it,  dear  boy,  but 
I am  not  worth  it.  This  attack,  my  dear  Mortimer  ; 
this  murder — ” 

His  friend  leaned  over  him  with  renewed  attention, 
saying  : “ You  and  I suspect  some  one.” 

“More  than  suspect.  But,  Mortimei’,  while  I lie 
here,  and  when  I lie  here  no  longer,  I trust  to  you 
that  the  perpetrator  i^  never  brought  to  justice.” 

“ Eugene  ?” 

“ Her  innocent  reputation  would  be  ruined,  my  friend. 
She  would  be  punished,  not  he.  I have  wronged  her 
enough  in  fact  ; I have  wronged  her  still  more  in  inten- 
tion. You  recollect  what  pavement  is  said  to  be  made  of 
good  intentions.  It  is  made  of  bad  intentions  too,  Mor- 
timer, I am  lying  on  it,  and  I know  !” 

“ Be  comforted,  my  dear  Eugene.” 


168 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


**  I will,  when  you  have  promised  me.  Dear  Mortimer, 
the  man  must  never  be  pursued.  If  he  should  be  accused, 
you  must  keep  him  silent  and  save  him.  Don^t  think  of 
avenging  me  ; think  only  of  hushing  the  story  and  pro- 
tecting her.  You  can  confuse  the  case,  and  turn  aside 
the  circumstances.  Listen  to  what  I say  to  you.  It  was 
not  the  schoolmaster,  Bradley  Headstone.  Do  you  hear 
me  ? Twice  ; it  was  not  the  schoolmaster,  Bradley 
Headstone.  Do  you  hear  me  ? Three  times  ; it  was  not 
the  schoolmaster,  Bradley  Headstone.” 

He  stopped,  exhausted.  His  speech  had  been  whisp- 
ered, broken  and  indistinct  ; but  by  a great  etfort  he  had 
made  it  plain  enough  to  be  unmistakable. 

Dear  fellow,  I am  wandering  away.  Stay  me  for 
another  moment,  if  you  can.” 

Lightwood  lifted  his  head  at  the  neck,  and  put  a wine- 
glass to  bis  lips.  He  rallied. 

I doiiT  know  how  long  ago  it  was  done,  whether 
weeks,  days,  or  hours.  No  matter.  There  is  inquiry  ou 
foot,  and  pursuit.  Say  ! Is  there  not 

Yes,” 

Check  it  ; divert  it  ! DonT  let  her  be  brought  in 
question.  Shield  her.  The  guilty  man,  brought  to 
justice,  would  poison  her  name.  Let  the  guilty  man 
go  unpunished.  Lizzie  and  my  reparation  before  all  ! 
Promise  me  !” 

Eugene,  I do.  I promise  you  1” 

In  the  act  of  turning  his  eyes  gratefully  toward  his 
friend  he  wandered  away.  His  eyes  stood  still,  and  set- 
tled into  that  former  intent  unmeaning  stare. 

Hours  and  hours,  days  and  nights,  he  remained  in  this 
same  condition.  There  were  times  when  he  would  calmly 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


169 


'speak  to  his  friend  after  a..  long  period  of  unconscious- 
ness, and  would  say  he  was  better,  and  would  ask  for 
something.  Before  it  could  be  given  him  he  would  be 
gone  again. 

The  dolls^  dress-maker,  all  softened  compassion  now, 
watched  him  with  an  earnestness  that  never  relaxed. 
She  would  regularly  change  the  ice,  or  the  cooling  spirit, 
on  his  head,  and  would  keep  her  ear  at  the  pillow  be- 
tweenwhiles,  listening  for  any  faint  words  that  fell  from 
him  in  his  wanderings.  It  v/as  amazing  through  how 
many  hours  at  a time  she  would  remain  beside  him,  in  a 
crouching  attitude,  attentive  to  his  slightest  moan.  As 
he  could  not  move  a hand,  he  could  make  no  sign  of  dis- 
tress ; but,  through  this  close  watching  (if  through  no 
secret  sympathy  or  power)  the  little  creature  attained  an 
understanding  of  him  that  Lightwood  did  not  possesvs. 
Mortimer  would  often  turn  to  her,  as  if  she  were  an  in- 
terpreter between  this  sentient  world  and  the  insensible 
man  ; and  she  would  change  the  dressing  of  a wound,  or 
ease  a ligature,  or  turn  his  face,  or  alter  the  pressure  of 
the  bed-clothes  on  him,  with  an  absolute  certainty  of  doing 
right.  The  natural  lightness  and  delicacy  of  touch  which 
had  become  very  refined  by  practice  in  her  miniature 
work,  no  doubt  was  involved  in  this  ; but  her  perception 
was  at  least  as  fiine. 

The  one  word,  Lizzie,  he  muttered  millions  of  times. 
In  a certain  phase  of  his  distressful  state,  which  was  the 
worst  to  those  who  tended  him,  he  would  roll  his  head 
upon  the  pillow,  incessantly  repeating  the  name  in  a hur- 
ried and  impatient  manner,  with  the  misery  of  a disturbed 
mind,  and  the  monotony  of  a machine.  Equally,  when  he 
lay  still  and  staring,  he  would  repeat  it  for  hours  without 
8 


ITO 


OUK  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


cessation,  but  then,  always  in  a tone  of  subdued  warning 
and  horror.  Her  presence  and  her  touch  upon  his  breast 
or  face  would  often  stop  this,  and  then  they  learned  to 
expect  that  he  would  for  some  time  remain  still,  with  his 
eyes  closed,  and  that  he  would  be  conscious  on  opening 
them.  But  the  heavy  disappointment  of  their  hope — re- 
vived by  the  welcome  silence  of  the  room— was,  that  his 
spirit  would  glide  away  again  and  be  lost  in  the  moment 
of  their  joy  that  it  was  there. 

This  frequent  rising  of  a drowning  man  from  the  deep, 
to  sink  again,  was  dreadful  to  the  beholders.  But 
gradually  the  change  stole  upon  him  that  it  became  dread- 
ful to  himself.  His  desire  to  impart  something  that  was 
on  his  mind,  his  unspeakable  yearning  to  have  speech  with 
his  friend  and  make  a communication  to  him,  so  troubled 
him  when  he  recovered  consciousness  that  its  term  was 
thereby  shortened.  As  the  man  rising  from  the  deep 
would  disappear  the  sooner  for  fighting  with  tlie  water, 
so  he  in  his  desperate  struggle  went  down  again. 

One  afternoon  when  he  had  been  lying  still,  and  Lizzie, 
unrecognized,  had  just  stolen  out  of  the  room,  to  pursue 
her  occupation,  he  uttered  Lightwood^s  name. 

My  dear  Eugene,  I am  here.” 

How  long  is  this  to  last,  Mortimer  ?” 

Lightwood  shook  his  head.  Still,  Eugene,  you  are 
no  worse  than  you  were.” 

But  I know  there’s  no  hope.  Yet  I pray  it  may 
last  long  enough  for  you  to  do  me  one  last  service,  and  for 
me  to  do  one  last  action.  Keep  me  here  a few  moments, 
Mortimer.  Try,  try  !” 

His  friend  gave  him  what  aid  he  could,  and  encouraged 
him  to  believe  that  he  \yas  more  composed,  though 


OTJR  MUTUAL  FRIEND* 


•m 


even  then  his  eyes  were  losing  the  expression  they  so  rare- 
ly recovered. 

''  Hold  me  here>  dear  fellow,  if  you  can.  Stop  my 
wandering  away.  I am  going 

''  Not  yet,  not  yet.  Tell  me,  dear  Eugene,  what  is  it 
I shall  do  r 

Keep  me  here  for  only  a single  minute.  I am  going 
away  again.  DonT  let  me  go.  Hear  me  speak  first. 
Stop  me — stop  me 

''  My  poor  Eugene,  try  to  be  calm.” 

I do  try.  I try  so  hard.  If  you  only  knew  how 
hard  ! Don’t  let  me  wander  till  I have  spoken.  Give 
me  a littte  more  wine.” 

Lightwood  complied.  Eugene,  with  a most  pathetic 
struggle  ag^nst  the  unconsciousnes  that  was  coming  over 
him,  and  with  a look  of  appeal  that  affected  his  friend 
profoundly,  said  : 

‘ ; You  can  leave  me  with  J enny,  while  you  speak  to 
her  and  tell  her  what  I beseech  of  her.  You  can  leave 
me  with  Jenny  while  you  are  gone.  There’s  not  much 
for  you  to  do.  You  won’t  be  long  away.” 

No,  no,  no.  But  tell  me  what  it  is  that  I shall  do, 
Eugene  !” 

I am  going  I You  can’t  hold  me.” 

Tell  me  in  a word,  Eugene  1” 

His  eyes  were  fixed  again,  and  the  only  word  that 
came  from  his  lips  was  the  word  millions  of  times  re- 
peated. Lizzie,  Lizzie,  Lizzie. 

But  the  watchful  little  dress-maker  had  been  vigilant 
as  ever  in  her  watch,  and  she  now  came  up  and  touched 
Lightwood’s  arm  at  he  looked  down  at  his  friend,  des- 
pairingly. 


in 


OVU  MUTUAL  T'RIEND. 


Hush  she  said,  with  her  finger  on  her  lips.  Sis 
eyes  are  closing.  Se^l  be  conscious  when  he  next  opens 
them.  Shall  I give  you  a leading  word  to  say  to  him 

0 Jenny,  if  you  could  only  give  me  the  right 
word 

1 can.  Stoop  down.^’ 

He  stooped,  and  she  whispered  in  his  ear.  She  whis- 
pered in  his  ear  one  short  word  of  a single  syllable. 
Lightwood  started,  and  looked  at  her. 

Try  it,^^  said  the  little  creature,  with  an  excited  and 
exultant  face.  She  then  bent  over  the  unconscious  man, 
and,  for  the  first  time,  kissed  him  on  the  cheek,  and  kissed 
the  poor  maimed  hand  that  was  nearest  to  hef.  Then, 
she  withdrew  to  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

Some  two  hours  afterward,  Mortimer  Lightwood  saw 
his  consciousness  come  back,  and  instantly,  but  very  tran- 
quilly, bent  over  him. 

DonT  speak,  Eugene.  Do  no  more  than  look  at  me, 
and  listen  to  me.  You  follow  what  I say.^’ 

He  moved  his  head  in  assent. 

“ I am  going  on  from  the  point  where  we  broke  off. 
Is  the  word  we  should  soon  have  come  to—is  it— 
Wife  P 

^‘0  God  bless  you,  Mortimer 

“ Hush  ! Don’t  be  agitated.  Don’t  speak.  Hear 
me,  dear  Eugene.  Your  mind  will  be  more  at  peace, 
lying  here,  if  you  make  Lizzie  your  wife.  You  wish  me 
to  speak  to  her,  and  tell  her  so,  and  entreat  her  to  be 
your  wife.  You  ask  her  to  kneel  at  this  bedside  and  be 
married  to  you,  that  your  reparation  may  be  complete. 
Is  that  so  ?” 

Yes.  God  bless  you  I Yes.” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIETO. 


1T3 


It  shall  be  done,  Eagene.  Trust  it  to  me.  I shall 
have  to  go  away  for  some  few  hours,  to  give  effect  to  your 
wishes.  You  see  this  is  unavoidable  V’ 

Dear  friend,  I said  so.’’ 

True.  But  I had  not  the  clew,  then.  How  do  you 
think  I got  it  ?” 

Glancing  wistfully  around,  Eugene  saw  Miss  Jenny  at 
the  foot  of  the  bed,  looking  at  him  with  her  elbows  on 
the  bed,  and  her  head  upon  her  hands.  There  was  a 
trace  of  his  whimsical  air  upon  him,  as  he  tried  to  smile 
at  her. 

“ Yes  indeed,”  said  Lightwood,  the  discovery  was 
hers.  Observe,  my  dear  Eugene  ; while  I am  away  you 
will  know  that  I have  discharged  my  trust  with  Lizzie, 
by  finding  her  here,  in  my  present  place  at  your  bed- 
side, to  leave  you  no  more.  A final  word  before  I go. 
This  is  the  right  course  of  a true  man,  Eugene.  And  I 
solemnly  believe,  with  all  my  soul,  that  if  Providence 
should  mercifully  restore  you  to  us,  you  will  be  blessed 
with  a noble  wife  in  the  preserver  of  your  life,  whom  you 
will  dearly  love.” 

“ Amen.  I am  sure  of  that.  But  I shall  not  come 
through  it,  Mortimer.” 

You  will  not  be  the  less  hopeful  or  less  strong,  for 
this,  Eugene.” 

No.  Touch  my  face  with  yours,  in  case  I should  not 
hold  out  till  you  come  back.  I love  you,  Mortimer. 
Don’t  be  uneasy  for  me  while  you  are  gone.  If  my  dear 
brave  girl  will  take  me,  I feel  persuaded  that  I shall  live 
long  enough  to  be  married,  dear  fellow.” 

Miss  Jenny  gave  up  altogether  on  this  parting  taking 
place  between  the  friends,  and,  sitting  with  her  back 


174 


OTJK  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


toward  the  bed  in  the  bower  made  by  her  bright  hair, 
wept  heartily,  thougli  noiselessly.  Mortimer  Lightwood 
was  soon  gone.  As  the  evening  light  lengthened  the 
heavy  reflections  of  the  trees  in  the  river,  another  figure 
came  with  a soft  step  into  the  sick  room. 

Is  he  conscious  asked  the  little  dress-maker,  as 
the  figure  took  its  station  by  the  pillow.  For,  Jenny  had 
given  place  to  it  immediately,  and  could  not  see  the  suf- 
ferers face,  in  the  dark  room,  from  her  new  and  removed 
position. 

He  is  conscious,  Jenny,^^  murmured  Eugene  for  him- 
self. He  knows  his  wife.” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


1Y5 


CHAPTER  XI. 

EFFECT  IS  GIVEN  TO  THE  DOLLS'  DllESS-MAKER^S  DISCOVERY. 

Mrs.  John  Rokesmith  sat  at  needle- work  in  her  neat 
little  room,  beside  a basket  of  neat  little  articles  of  cloth- 
ing, which  presented  so  much  of  the  appearance  of  being 
in  the  dolls^  dress-makePs  way  of  business,  that  one  might 
have  supposed  she  was  going  to  set  up  in  opposition  to 
Miss  Wren.  Whetlier  the  Complete  British  Family 
Housewife  had  imparted  sage  counsel  anent  them,  did 
not  appear,  but  probably  not,  as  that  cloudy  oracle  was 
nowhere  visible.  For  certain,  however,  Mrs.  John  Roke- 
smith stitched  at  them  with  so  dexterous  a hand,  that 
she  must  have  taken  lessons  of  somebody.  Love  is  in  all 
things  a most  wonderful  teacher,  and  perhaps  love  (from 
a pictorial  point  of  view,  with  nothing  on  but  a thimble) 
had  been  teaching  this  branch  of  needle-work  to  Mrs. 
John  Rokesmith 

It  was  near  John^s  time  for  coming  home,  but  as  Mrs. 
John  was  desirous  to  finish  a special  triumph  of  her  skill 
before  dinner,  she  did  not  go  out  to  meet  him.  Placidly, 
though  rather  consequentially  smiling,  she  sat  stitching 
away  with  a I'egular  sound,  like  a sort  of  dimpled 
little  charming  Dresden-china  clock  by  the  very  best 
maker. 

A knock  at  the  door,  and  a ring  at  the  bell.  Not 


176 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


John  ; or  Bella  would  have  flown  out  to  meet  him.  Then 
who,  if  not  John  ? Bella  was  asking  herself  the  question, 
when  that  fluttering  little  fool  of  a servant  fluttered  in, 
saying,  “ Mr.  Lightvvood 

Oh  good  gracious  ! 

Bella  had  but  time  to  throw  a handkerchief  over  the 
basket,  when  Mr.  Lightwood  made  his  bow.  There  was 
something  amiss  with  Mr.  Lightwood,  for  he  was  strangely 
grave  and  looked  ill. 

With  a brief  reference  to  the  happy  time  when  it  had 
been  his  privilege  to  know  Mrs.  Rokesmith  as  Miss  Wilfer, 
Mr.  Lightwood  explained  what  was  amiss  with  him  and 
why  he  came.  He  came  bearing  Lizzie  Hexam^s  earn- 
est hope  that  Mrs.  John  Rokesmith  would  see  her 
married. 

Bella  was  so  fluttered  by  the  request,  and  by  the  short 
narrative  lie  had  feelingly  given  her,  that  there  never  was 
a more  timely  smelling-bottle  than  John’s  knock.  “ My 
husband,”  said  Bella  ; “ I’ll  bring  him  in.” 

But  that  turned  out  to  be  more  easily  said  than 
done  ; for,  the  instant  she  mentioned  Mr.  Lightwood^s 
name,  John  stopped,  with  his  hand  upon  the  lock  of  the 
room  door. 

“ Come  up  stairs,  my  darling.” 

Bella  was  amazed  by  the  flush  in  his  face,  and  by  his 
sudden  turning  away.  ‘‘  What  can  it  mean  ?”  she  thought, 
as  she  accompanied  him  up  stairs. 

“Now,  my  life,”  said  John,  taking  her  on  his  knee, 
“ tell  me  all  about  it.” 

All  very  well  to  say,  “ Tell  me  all  about  it but  John 
was  very  much  confused.  His  attention  evidently  trailed 
off,  now  and  then,  even  while  Bella  told  him  all  about  it. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


177 


Yet  she  knew  that  he  took  a great  interest  in  Lizzie  and 
her  fortunes.  What  could  it  mean  ? 

“ You  will  come  to  this  marriage  with  me,  John 
dear 

IN’ — no,  my  love  ; I can’t  do  that.” 

You  can’t  do  that,  John  ?” 

Yo,  my  dear,  it’s  quite  out  of  the  question.  Not  to 
be  thought  of.” 

‘‘  Am  I to  go  alone,  John  ?” 

No,  my  dear,  you  will  go  with  Mr.  Lightwood.” 

“ Don’t  you  think  it’s  time  we  went  down  to  Mr. 
Lightwood,  John  dear  ?”  Bella  insinuated. 

“ My  darling,  it’s  almost  time  you  went,  but  I must  ask 
you  to  excuse  me  to  him  altogether.” 

“ You  never  mean,  John  dear,  that  you  are  not  going 
to  see  him  ? Why,  he  knows  you  have  come  home.  I 
told  him  so.” 

“ That’s  a little  unfortunate,  but  it  can’t  be  helped. 
Unfortunate  or  fortunate,  I positively  can  not  see  him, 
rny  love.” 

Bella  cast  about  in  her  mind  what  could  be  his  reason 
for  this  unaccountable  behavior,  as  she  sat  on  his  knee 
looking  at  him  in  astonishment  and  pouting  a little.  A 
weak  reason  presented  itself. 

John  dear,  you  never  can  be  jealous  of  Mr.  Light* 
wood  ?” 

“ Why,  my  precious  child,”  returned  her  husband, 
laughing  outright,  ‘‘  how  could  I be  jealous  of  him  ? 
Why  should  I be  jealous  of  him  ?” 

Because  you  know,  John,”  pursued  Bella,  pouting  a 
little  more,  “ though  he  did  rather  admire  me  once,  it 
was  not  my  fault.” 


8* 


I 


178  OtJR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

It  was  joiir  fault  tliat  I admired  you/^  returned  her 
husband,  with  a look  of  pride  in  her,  **  and  why  not  your 
fault  that  he  admired  you  ? But  I jealous  on  that  ac- 
count ? Why,  I must  go  distracted  for  life  if  I turned 
iealous  of  every  one  who  used  to  find  my  wife  beautiful 
and  winning  V’ 

I am  half  angry  with  you,  John  dear, said  Bella, 
laughing  a little,  and  half^ pleased  with  you  ; because 
you  are  such  a stupid  old  fellow,  and  yet  you  say  nice 
things,  as  if  you  meant  them.  Don’t  be  mysterious,  Sir. 
What  harm  do  you  know  of  Mr.  Lightwood 

‘‘  None,  my  love.”  ' 

“ What  has  he  ever  done  to  you,  John  ?” 

He  has  never  done  any  thing  to  me,  my  dear.  I 
know  no  more  against  him  than  I know  against  Mr. 
Wrayburn  ; he  has  never  done  any  thing  to  me  ; neither 
has  Mi\  Wrayburn.  And  yet  I have  exactly  the  same 
objection  to  both  of  them.” 

Oh,  John  !”  retorted  Bella,  as  if  she  were  givinghim 
up  for  a bad  job,  as  she  used  to  give  up  herself.  **  You 
are  nothing  better  than  a sphinx  ! And  a married  sphinx 
isn’t  a — isn’t  a nice  confidential  husband,”  said  Bella,  in 
a tone  of  injury. 

Bella,  my  life,”  said  John  Rokesmith,  touching  her 
cheek,  with  a grave  smile,  as  she  cast  down  her  eyes  and 
pouted  again  ; “ look  at  me.  I want  to  speak  to  you.” 

In  earnest.  Blue  Beard  of  the  secret  chamber  ?” 
asl^ed  Bella,  clearing  her  pretty  face. 

In  earnest.  And  I confess  to  the  secret  chamber 
Don’t  you  remember  that  you  asked  me  not  to  declare 
what  I thought  of  your  higher  qualities  until  you  had 
been  tried  ?” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


179 


Yes,  John  dear.  And  I fully  meant  it,  and  I fully 
mean  it.^‘ 

“The  time  will  come,  ray  darling — l am  no  prophet, 
but  I say  so — when  you  will  be  tried.  The  time  will 
come,  I think,  when  you  will  undergo  a trial  through 
which  you  will  never  pass  quite  triumphantly  for  me  un- 
less you  can  put  perfect  faith  in  me.^’ 

“ Then  you  may  be  sure  of  me,  John  dear,  for  I can 
put  perfect  faith  in  you,  and  I do,  and  I always,  always 
will.  DoiiT  judge  me  by  a little  thing  like  this,  John. 
In  little  things,  I am  a little  thing  myself — I always  was. 
But  in  great  things  I hope  not : I doiiT  mean  to  boast, 
John  dear,  but  I hope  not.’’ 

He  was  even  better  convinced  of  the  truth  of  what  she 
said  than  she  was  as  he  felt  her  loving  arras  about  him. 
If  the  Golden  Dustman’s  riches  had  been  his  to  stake,  he 
would  have  staked  them  to  the  last  farthing  on  the  fidelity 
through  good  and  evil  of  her  affectionate  and  trusting  heart. 

“Now  ni  go  down  to,  and  go  away  with,  Mr.  Light- 
wood,”  said  Bella,  springing  up.  You  are  the  most 
creasing  and  tumbling  CIumsy>Boots  of  a packer,  John, 
that  ever  was  ; but  if  you’re  quite  good,  and  will  promise 
never  to  do  so  any  more  (though  1 don’t  know  what  you 
have  done  !),  you  may  pack  me  a little  bag  for  a night, 
while  I get  my  bonnet  on.” 

He  gayly  complied,  and  she  tied  her  dimpled  chin  up, 
and  shook  her  head  into  her  bonnet,  and  pulled  out  the 
bows  of  her  bonnet-strings,  and  got  her  gloves  on,  finger 
by  finger,,  and  finally  got  them  on  her  little  plump  hands, 
and  bade  him  good-by,  and  went  down.  Mr.  Lightwood’s 
impatience  was  much  relieved  when  he  found  her  dressed 
for  departure. 


180 


OUR  MrTUAL  FRIEND. 


Mr.  Rokesmith  goes  with  us  he  said,  hesitating, 
with  a look  toward  the  door. 

Oh,  I forgot !”  replied  Bella.  “ His  best  compli- 
ments. His  face  is  swollen  to  the  size  of  two  faces,  and 
he  is  to  go  to  bed  directly,  poor  fellow,  to  wait  for  the 
doctor,  who  is  coming  to  lance  him.’^ 

‘‘It  is  curious,’'^  observed  Light  wood,  that  I have 

never  yet  seen  Mr.  Rokesmith,  though  we  have  been  en- 
gaged in  the  same  affairs.” 

Really  said  the  unblushing  Bella. 

“ I begin  to  think,”  observed  Lightwood,  ‘‘  that  I never 
shall  see  him.” 

These  things  happen  so  oddly  sometimes,”  said  Bella, 
with  a steady  countenance,  “ that  there  seems  a kind  of 
fatality  in  them.  But  I am  quite  ready,  Mr.  Light- 
wood.” 

They  started  directly  in  a little  carriage  that  Light- 
wood  had  brought  with  him  from  never-to-be-forgotten 
Greenwich  ; and  from  Greenwich  they  started  directly 
for  London  ; and  in  London  they  waited  at  a railway 
station  until  such  time  as  the  Rev.  Frank  Milvey,  and 
Margaretta  his  wife,  with  whom  Mortimer  Lightwood  had 
been  already  in  conference,  should  come  and  join  them. 

That  worthy  couple  were  delayed  by  a portentous  old 
parishioner  of  the  female  gender,  who  was  one  of  the 
plagues  of  their  lives,  and  with  whom  they  bore  with  most 
exemplary  sweetr.ess  and  good  humor,  notwithstanding 
her  having  an  infection  of  absurdity  about  her  that  coin- 
nuinicated  itself  to  every  thing  with  which,  and  every 
body  with  whom,  she  .came  in  contact.  She  was  a mem- 
ber of  the  Reverend  Fi'ank^s  congregation,  and  made  a 
point  of  distinguishing  herself  in  that  body  by  couspicu- 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


181 


ously  weeping  at  ev^ry  thing,  however  cheering,  said  by 
the  Reverend  Frank  in  his  public  ministration  ; also,  by  ap- 
plying to  herself  the  various  lamentations  of  David,  and 
complaining  in  a personally  injured  manner  (much  in  ar- 
rear  of  the  clerk  and  the  rest  of  the  respondents)  that  her 
enemies  were  digging  pitfalls  about,  her,  and  breaking  her 
with  rods  of  iron.  Indeed,  this  old  widow  discharged 
herself  of  that  portion  of  the  Morning  and  Evening  Ser- 
vice as  if  she  were  lodging  a complaint  on  oath  and  ap- 
plying for  a warrant  before  a magistrate.  But  this  was 
not  her  most  inconvenient  characteristic,  for  that  took 
the  form  of  an  impression,  usually  recurring  in  inclement 
weather  and  at  about  daybreak,  that  she  had  something 
on  her  mind,  and  stood  in  immediate  need  of  the  Re- 
verend Frank  to  come  and  take  it  off.  Many  a time  had 
that  kind  creature  got  up,  and  gone  out  to  Mrs.  Sprodg- 
kin  (such  was  the  disciple’s  name),  suppressing  a strong 
sense  of  her  comicality  by  his  strong  sense  of  duty,  and 
perfectly  knowing  that  nothing  but  a cold  would  come 
of  it.  However,  beyond  themselves,  the  Reverend  Frank 
Milvey  and  Mrs.  Milvey  seldom  hinted  that  Mrs.  Sprodg- 
kin  was  hardly  worth  the  trouble  she  gave ; but  both 
made  the  best  of  her,  as  they  did  of  all  their  troubles. 

This  very  exacting  member  of  the  fold  appeared  to  be 
endowed  with  a sixth  sense,  in  regard  of  knowing  when 
the  Reverend  Frank  Milvey  least  desired  her  company, 
and  with  promptitude  appearing  in  his  little  hall.  Con- 
sequently, when  the  Reverend  Frank  had  willingly  en- 
gaged that  he  and  Ids  wife  would  accompany  Lightwood 
buck,  he  said,  as  a matter  of  coivrse  : “We  must  make 
haste  to  get  out,  Margaretta,  my  dear,  or  we  shall  be 
descended  on  by  Mrs.  Sprodgkiu.”  To  which  Mrs.  Mil- 


182 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


vej  replied,  in  lier  pleasantly  emphatic  way,  Oh  yes^ 
for  she  is  such  a marplot,  Frank,  and  does  worry  so 
Words  that  were  scarcely  uttered  when  their  theme  was 
announced  as  in  faithful  attendance  below,  desiring  coun- 
sel on  a spiritual  matter.  The  points  on  which  Mrs. 
Sprodgkin  sought  elucidation  being  seldom  of  a pressing 
nature  (as  Wlio  begat  Whom,  or.  some  information  con- 
cerning the  Amorites),  Mrs.  Milvey  on  this  special  occa- 
sion, resorted  to  the  device  of  buying  her  olF  with  a pre- 
sent of  tea  and  sugar,  and  a loaf  and  butter.  These  gifts 
Mrs.  Sprodgkin  accepted,  but  still  insisted  on  dutifully 
remaining  in  the  hall,  to  courtesy  to  the  Reverend 
Frank  as  he  came  forth.  Who,  incautiously  saying  in  his 
genial  manner,  ^^Well,  Sally,  there  you  are  involved 
himself  in  a discursive  address  from  Mrs.  Sprodgkin,  re- 
volving around  the  result  that  she  regarded  tea  and  sugar 
in  the  light  of  myrrh  and  frankincense,  and  considered 
bread  and  butter  identical  with  locusts  and  wild  honey. 
Having  communicated  this  edifying  piece  of  information, 
Mrs.  Sprodgkin  was  left  still  unadjourned  in  the  hall,  and 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Milvey  hurried  in  a heated  condition  to  the 
railway  station.  All  of  which  is  here  recorded  to  the 
honor  of  that  good  Christian  pair,  representatives  of 
hundreds  of  other  good  Christian  pairs  as  conscientious 
and  as  useful,  who  merge  the  smallness  of  their  work  in 
its  greatness,  and  feel  in  no  danger  of  losing  dignity 
when  they  adapt  themselves  to  incomprehensible  hum- 
bugs. 

Detained  at  the  last  moment  by  one  who  had  a 
claim  upon  me,^’  was  the  Reverend  Frank’s  apology  to 
Lightwcod,  taking  no  thought  of  liimself.  To  which 
Mrs.  Milvey  added,  taking  thought  for  him,  like  the 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


183 


championing  little  wife  she  was  ; Oh  yes,  detained  at 
the  last  moment.  But  as  to  the  claim,  Frank,  I must 
say  that  I do  think  you  are  c?re?*'Considerate  sometimes, 
and  allow  that  to  be  a litth  abused.^^ 

Bella  felt  conscious,  in  spite  of  her  late  pledge  for  her- 
self, that  her  husband’s  absence  would  give  disagreeable 
occasion  for  surprise  to  the  Milveys.  Nor  could  she 
appear  quite  at  her  ease  when  Mrs.  Milvey  asked  : 

How  is  Mr.  Bokesmith,  and  is  he  gone  before  us,  or 
does  he  follow  us  ?” 

It  becoming  necessary,  upon  this,  to  send  him  to  bed 
again,  Bella  did  it.  But  not  half  as  well  on  the  second 
occasion  as  on  the  first ; for,  a twice-told  white  one  seems 
almost  to  become  a black  one,  when  you  are  not  used 
to  it. 

Oh  dear said  Mrs.  Milvey,  I am  so  sorry  ! Mr. 
Bokesmith  took  such  an  interest  in  Lizzie  Hexam,  when 
we  were  there  before.  And  if  we  had  only  known  of 
his  face,  we  could  have  given  him  something  that  would 
have  kept  it  down  long  enough  for  so  short  a purpose.” 
By  way  of  making  the  white  one  whiter,  Bella  hasten- 
ed to  stipulate  that  he  was  not  in  pain.  Mrs.  Milvey 
was  so  glad  of  it. 

I don’t  know  how  it  is,”  said  Mrs.  Milvey,  and  I am 
sure  you  don’t,  Frank,  but  the  clergy  and  their  wives 
seem  to  cause  swelled  faces.  Whenever  I take  notice  of 
a child  in  school,  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  its  face  swelled 
instantly.  Frank  mver  makes  acquaintance  with  a new 
old  woman,  but  she  gets  the  face-ache.  And  another 
thing  is,  we  do  make  the  poor  children  sniff  so.  I don’t 
know  how  we  do  it,  and  I should  be  so  glad  not  to  ; but 
the  more  we  take  notice  of  them,  the  more  they  sniff 


184 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


Just  as  they  do  when  the  text  is  given  out. — Frank, 
thaFs  a schoolmaster.  I have  seen  him  somewhere.^’ 

The  reference  was  to  a young  man  of  reserved  appear- 
ance, in  a coat  and  waistcoat  of  black,  and  pantaloons 
of  pepper  and  salt.  He  had  come  into  the  office  of  the 
station,  from  its  interior,  in  an  unsettled  way,  immediately 
after  Lightwood  had  gone  out  to  the  train  ; and  he  had 
been  hurriedly  reading  the  printed  bills  and  notices  on 
the  wail.  He  had  had  a wandering  interest  in  what  was 
said  among  the  people  waiting  there  and  passing  to  and 
fro.  He  had  drawn  nearer,  at  about  the  time  when  Mrs. 
Milvey  mentioned  Lizzie  Hexam,  and  had  remained  near 
since  : though  always  glancing  toward  the  door  by  which 
Lightwood  had  gone  out.  He  stood  with  his  back 
toward  them,  and  his  gloved  hands  clasped  behind  him. 
There  was  now  so  evident  a faltering  upon  him,  expres- 
sive of  indecision  whether  or  no  he  should  express  his 
having  heard  himself  referred  to,  that  Mr.  Milvey  spoke 
to  him. 

I cannot  recall  your  name,^^  he  said,  but  I remem- 
ber to  have  seen  you  in  your  school.” 

“ My  name  is  Bradley  Headstone,  Sir,”  he  replied, 
backing  into  a more  retired  place. 

I ought  to  have  remembered  it,”  said  Mr.  Milvey, 
giving  him  his  hand.  I hope  you  are  well  ? A little 
overworked,  I am  afraid 

Yes,  I am  overworked  just  at  present,  Sir.^ 

Had  no  play  in  your  last  holiday  time  ?” 

No,  Sir.” 

“ All  work  and  no  play,  Mr.  Headstone,  will  not 
make  dullness  in  your  case,  I dare  say  ; but  it  will 
make  dyspepsia,  if  you  don^t  take  care.” 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


185 


I will  endeavor  to  take  care,  Sir.  Might  I beg 
leave  to  speak  to  you  outside,  a moment 
“ By  all  means.’’ 

It  was  evening,  and  the  office  was  well  lighted.  The 
schoolmaster  who  had  never  remitted  his  watch  on 
Tiightwood’s  door,  now  moved  by  another  door  to  a 
corner  without,  where  there  was  more  shadow  than 
light ; and  said,  plucking  at  his  gloves  : 

One  of  your  ladies.  Sir,  mentioned  within  my 
hearing  a name  that  I am  acquainted  with  ; I may 
say,  well  acquainted  with.  The  name  of  the  sister  of 
an  old  pupil  of  mine.  He  was  my  pupil  for  a long 
time,  and  has  got  on  and  gone  upward  rapidl3L  The  name 
of  Hexam.  The  name  of  Lizzie  Hexam.”  He  seemed  to 
be  a sh^"  man,  struggling  against  nervousness,  and  spoke 
in  a very  constrained  way.  The  break  he  set  between  his 
last  two  sentences  was  quite  embarrassing  to  his  hearer. 

“Yes,”  replied  Mr.  Milve}^  “ We  are  going  down 
to  see  her.” 

“ 1 gathered  as  much,  Sir.  I hope  there  is  nothing 
amiss  with  the  sister  of  my  old  pupil  ? I hope  no 
bereavement  has  befallen  her.  I hope  she  is  in  no 
affliction  ? Has  lost  no — relation  ?” 

Mr.  Milve\^  thought  this  a man  with  a very  odd  man- 
ner, and  a dark  downward  look  ; but  he  answered  in 
his  usual  open  way. 

I am  glad  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Headstone,  that  the  sis- 
ter of  your  old  pupil  has  not  sustained  any  such  loss. 
You  thought  I might  be  going  down  to  bury  some  one 
“ That  may  have  been  the  connection  of  ideas.  Sir, 
with  your  clerical  character,  but  I was  not  conscious 
of  it. — Then  you  are  not.  Sir 


186 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRTEND. 


A man  with  a very  odd  manner  indeed,  and  with  a 
lurking  look  that  was  quite  oppressive. 

No.  In  said  Mr.  Milvey,  since  you  are  so 
interested  in  th©  sister  of  your  old  pupil,  I may  as 
well  tell  you  that  I am  going  down  to  marry  her.’^ 
The  schoolmaster  started  back. 

Not  to  marry  her,  myself, said  Mr.  Milvey,  with 
a smile,  ‘‘  because  I have  a wife  already.  To  perform 
the  marriage  service  at  her  wedding.^^ 

Bradley  Headstone  caught  hold  of  a pillar  behind 
him.  If  Mr.  Milvey  knew  an  ashy  face  when  he  saw 
it,  he  saw  it  then. 

You  are  quite  ill,  Mr.  Headstone 
^^It  is  not  much,  Sir.  It  will  pass  over  very  soon. 
I am  accustomed  to  be  seized  with  giddiness.  Don’t 
let  me  detain  you,  Sir ; I stand  in  need  of  no  assist- 
ance, I thank  you.  Much  obliged  by  your  sparing  me 
these  minutes  of  your  time.” 

As  Mr.  Milvey,  who  had  no  more  minutes  to  spare, 
made  a suitable  repl^''  and  turned  back  into  the  office, 
he  observed  the  schoolmaster  to  lean  against  the 
pillar  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  to  pull  at  his  neck- 
cloth as  if  he  were  trying  to  tear  it  off.  The  Reve- 
rend Frank  accordingly  directed  the  notice  of  one  of 
the  attendants  to  him,  by  saying  ; “ There  is  a person 
outside  who  seems  to  be  really  ill,  and  to  require  some 
help,  though  he  says  he  does  not.” 

Light  wood  had  by  this  time  secured  their  places, 
and  the  departure-bell  was  about  to  be  rung.  They 
took  their  seats,  and  were  beginning  to  move  out  of 
the  station,  when  the  same  attendant  came  running 
along  the  platform,  looking  into  all  the  carriages. 


OXm  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


187 


Oh  I You  are  here,  Sir  !’’  he  said,  springing  on 
the  step,  and  holding  the  window-frame  by  his  elbow 
as  the  carriage  moved.  That  person  3^11  pointed 
out  to  me  is  in  a fit  1” 

I infer  from  what  he  told  me  that  he  is  subject  to 
such  attacks.  He  will  come  to,  in  the  air,  in  a little 
while.’’ 

He  was  took  very  bad  to  be  sure,  and  was  biting  and 
knocking  about  him  (the  man  said)  furiously.  Would 
the  gentleman  give  him  his  card,  as  he  had  seen  him  first  ? 
The  gentleman  did  so,  with  the  explanation  that  he  knev/ 
no  more  of  the  man  attacked  than  that  he  was  a man  of 
a very  respectable  occupation,  who  had  said  he  was  out 
of  health,  as  his  appearance  would  of  itself  have  indicated. 
The  attendant  received  the  card,  watched  his  opportunity 
for  sliding  down,  slid  down,  and  so  it  ended. 

Then,  the  train  rattled  among  the  house-tops,  and 
among  the  ragged  sides  of  houses  torn  down  to  make  way 
for  it,  and  over  the  swarming  streets,  and  under  the  fruit- 
ful earth,  until  it  shot  across  the  river  : bursting  over  the 
quiet  surface  like  a bomb-shell,  and  gone  again  as  if  it 
had  exploded  in  the  rush  of  smoke  and  steam  and  glare. 
A little  more,  and  again  it  roared  across  the  river,  a 
great  rocket  : spurning  the  watery  turnings  and  doublings 
with  ineffable  contempt,  and  going  straight  to  its  end, 
as  Father  Time  goes  to  his.  To  whom  it  is  no  matter 
what  living  waters  run  high  or  low,  reflect  the  heavenly 
lights  and  darknesses,  produce  their  little  growth  of  weeds 
and  flowers,  turn  here,  turn  there,  are  noisy  or  still,  are 
troubled,  or  at  rest,  for  their  course  has  one  sure 
termination,  though  their  sources  and  devices  are 
many. 


188 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


Then,  a carriage  ride  succeeded,  near  the  solemi  . 
3iealing  away  by  night,  as  all  things  steal  away,  by  night 
and  by  day,  so  quietly  yielding  to  the  attraction  of  the 
loadstone  rock  of  eternity  ; and  the  nearer  they  drew  to 
the  chamber  where  Eugene  lay,  the  more  they  feared 
that  they  might  find  his  wanderings  done.  At  last  they 
saw  its  dim  light  shining  out,  and  it  gave  them  hope  : 
though  Lightwood  faltered  as  he  thought  : If  he  were 

gone,  she  would  still  be  sitting  by  him.’^ 

But  he  lay  quiet,  half  in  stupor,  half  in  sleep.  Bella 
entering  with  a raised  admonitory  finger,  kissed  Lizzie 
softly,  but  said  not  a word.  Neither  did  any  of  them 
speak,  but  all  sat  down  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  silently 
waiting.  And  now,  in  this  night-watch,  mingling  with 
the  flow  of  the  river  and  with  the  rush  of  the  train,  came 
the  questions  into  Beliaks  mind  again  : what  could  be  in 
the  depths  of  that  mystery  of  John^s  ? Why  was  it  that 
he  had  never  been  seen  by  Mr.  Lightwood,  whom  he  still 
avoided  ? When  would  that  trial  come,  through  which 
her  faith  in,  and  her  duty  to,  her  dear  husband,  was  to 
carry  her,  rendering  him  triumphant  ? For,  that  had 
been  his  term.  Her  passing  through  the  trial  was  to 
make  the  man  she  loved  with  all  heart  her  triumphant. 
Term  not  to  sink  out  of  sight  in  Beliaks  breast. 

Far  on  in  the  night  Eugene  opened  his  eyes.  He  was 
sensible,  and  said  at  once  : “How  does  the  time  go  ? 
Has  our  Mortimer  come  back  V’ 

Lightwood  was  there  immediately,  to  answer  for  him- 
self. “Yes,  Eugene,  and  all  is  ready 

“ Dear  boy  returned  Eugene  with  a smile,  “ we 
both  thank  you  heartily.  Lizzie,  tell  them  how  welcome 
they  are,  and  that  I would  be  eloquent  if  I could.^^ 


OTJR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


189 


“ There  no  need,’^  said  Mr.  Milvey.  We  know  it. 
Are  you  better,  Mr.  Wray  burn  P 

I am  much  happier,”  said  Eugene. 

**  Much  better  too,  I hope  ?” 

Eugene  turned  his  eyes  toward  Lizzie,  as  if  to  spare 
her,  and  answered  nothing. 

Then,  they  all  stood  around  the  bed,  and  Mr.  Milvey, 
opening  his  book,  began  the  service  ; so  rarely  associated 
with  the  shadow  of  death  ; so  inseparable  in  the  mind 
from  a flush  of  life  and  gayety  and  hope  and  health  and 
joy.  Bella  thought  how  different  from  her  own  sunny 
little  wedding,  and  wept.  Mrs.  Milvey  overflowed  with 
pity,  and  wept  too.  The  dolls’  dress-maker,  with  her 
hands  before  her  face,  wept  in  her  golden  bower.  Bead- 
ing in  a low  clear  voice,  and  bending  over  Eugene,  who 
kept  his  eyes  upon  him,  Mr.  Milvey  did  his  office  with 
suitable  simplicity.  As  the  bridegroom  could  not  move 
his  hand,  they  touched  his  fingers  with  the  ring,  and  so 
put  it  on  the  bride.  When  the  two  plighted  their  troth 
she  laid  her  hand  on  his,  and  kept  it  there.  When  the 
ceremony  was  done,  and  all  the  rest  departed  from  the 
room,  she  drew  her  arm  under  his  head,  and  laid  her  own 
head  down  upon  the  pillow  by  his  side. 

Undraw  the  curtains,  my  dear  girl,”  said  Eugene, 
after  a while,  and  let  us  see  our  wedding-day.” 

The  sun  was  rising,  and  his  first  rays  struck  into  the 
room  as  she  came  back  and  put  her  lips  to  his.  I bless 
the  day  I”  said  Eugene.  I bless  the  day  !”  said  Lizzie. 

You  have  made  a poor  marriage  of  it,  my  sweet 
wife,”  said  Eugene.  A shattered,  graceless  fellow, 
stretched  at  his  length  here,  and  next  to  nothing  for  you 
when  you  are  a young  widow,” 


190 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


I have  made  the  marriage  that  I would  have  given 
all  the  world  to  dare  to  hope  for/^  she  replied. 

‘‘  You  have  thrown  yourself  away,’’  said  Eugene,  shak- 
ing his  head.  But  you  have  followed  the  treasure  of 
your  heart.  My  justification  is,  that  you  had  thrown 
that  away  first,  dear  girl  !” 

No.  I had  given  it  to  you.” 

The  same  thing,  my  poor  Lizzie  1” 

Hush,  hush  ! A very  different  thing.” 

There  were  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  she  besought  him  to 
close  them.  “ No,”  said  Eugene,  again  shaking  his  head  ; 

let  me  look  at  you,  Lizzie,  while  I can.  You  brave  de- 
voted girl  1 You  heroine  !” 

Her  own  eyes  filled  under  his  praises.  And  when  he 
mustered  strength  to  move  his  wounded  head  a very 
little  way,  and  lay  it  on  her  bosom,  the  tears  of 
both  fell. 

Lizzie,”  said  Eugene,  after  a silence  : when  you 

see  me  wandering  away  from  this  refuge  that  I have  so 
ill  deserved,  speak  to  me  by  my  name,  and  I think  I shall 
come  back.” 

Yes,  dear  Eugene.” 

There  !”  he  exclaimed,  smiling.  I should  have 
gone  then,  but  for  that  !” 

A little  while  afterward,  when  he  appeared  to  be  sink- 
ing into  insensibility,  she  said  in  a calm,  loving  voice  : 
“ Eugene,  my  dear  husband  !”  Ho  immediately  answer- 
ed : There  again  I You  see  how  you  can  recall  me  1” 

And  afterward,  when  he  could  not  speak,  he  still 
answered  by  a slight  movement  of  his  head  upon  her 
bosom. 

The  sun  was  high  in  the  sky  when  she  gently  disen- 


OUR  MUTUAL.  FRIEND. 


191 


gaged  herself  to  give  him  the  stimulants  and  nourishment 
he  required.  The  utter  helplessness  of  the  wreck  of  him 
that  lay  cast  ashore  there  now  alarmed  her,  but  he  him- 
self appeared  a little  more  hopeful. 

“Ah,  my  beloved  Lizzie  1’’  he  said,  faintly.  “How 
shall  I ever  pay  all  Lowe  you,  if  I recover 

“ Don’t  be  ashamed  of  me,”  she  replied,  “ and  you  will 
have  more  than  paid  all.” 

‘'It  would  require  a life,  Lizzie,  to  pay  all  ; more 
than  a life.” 

“ Live  for  that,  then  ; live  for  me,  Eugene  ; live  to 
see  how  hard  I will  try  to  improve  myself,  and  never  to 
discredit  you.” 

“ My  darling  girl,”  he  replied,  rallying  more  of  his  old 
manner  than  he  had  ever  yet  got  together.  “ On  the 
contrary,  I have  been  thinking  whether  it  is  not  the  best 
thing  I can  do,  to  die.” 

“ The  best  thing  you  can  do,  to  leave  me  with  a broken 
heart  ?” 

“ I don’t  mean  that,  my  dear  girl.  I was  not  thinking 
of  that.  What  I was  thinking  of  was  this.  Out  of  your 
compassion  for  me,  in  this  maimed  and  broken  state,  you 
make  so  much  of  me — you  think  so  w^ell  of  me— you  love 
me  so  dearly.” 

“ Heaven  knows  I love  you  dearly  I” 

“ And  Heaven  knows  I prize  it  I Well.  If  I live, 
you’ll  find  me  out.” 

“ I shall  find  out  that  my  husband  has  a mine  of  pur- 
pose and  energy,  and  will  turn  it  to  the  best  account  ?” 

“I  hope  so,  dearest  Lizzie,”  said  Eugene,  wistfully, 
and  yet  somewhat  whimsically.  “ I hope  so.  But  I 
can’t  summon  the  vanity  to  think  so.  How  can  I think 


192 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


60,  looking  back  on  such  a trifling  wasted  youth  as  mine  ! 
I humbly  hope  it ; but  I daren’t  believe  it.  There  is  a 
sharp  misgiving  in  my  conscience  that  if  I were  to  live  I 
should  disappoint  your  good  opinion  and  my  own — and 
that  I ought  to  die,  my  dear  I” 


lir>9«fy 

( VHE 

Of  ttlMOM 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


193 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  PASSING  SHADOW. 

The  winds  and  tides  rose  and  fell  a certain  number  of 
times,  the  earth  moved  round  the  sun  a certain  number 
of  times,  the  ship  upon  the  ocean  made  her  voyage  safely, 
and  brought  a baby-Bella  home.  Then  who  so  blest  and 
happy  as  Mrs.  John  Rokesmith,  saving  and  excepting 
Mr.  John  Rokesmith  ! 

Would  you  not  like  to  be  rich  now^  my  darling?’^ 
How  can  you  ask  me  such  a question,  John  dear? 
Am  I not  rich 

These  were  among  the  first  words  spoken  near  the 
baby-Bella  as  she  lay  asleep.  She  soon  proved  to  be  a 
baby  of  wonderful  intelligence,  evincing  the  strongest  ob- 
jection to  her  grandmother’s  society,  and  being  invariably 
seized  with  a painful  acidity  of  the  stomach  when  that 
dignified  lady  honored  her  with  any  attention. 

It  was  charming  to  see  Bella  contemplating  this  baby, 
and  finding  out  her  own  dimples  in  that  tiny  reflection, 
as  if  she  were  looking  in  the  glass  without  personal 
vanity.  Her  cherubic  father  justly  remarked  to  her  hus- 
Dand  that  the  baby  seemed  to  make  her  younger  than 
oefore,  reminding  him  of  the  days  when  she  had  a pel 
loll  and  used  to  talk  to  it  as  she  carried  it  about.  The 
world  might  have  been  challenged  to  produce  another 
9 


194 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


baby  who  had  such  a store  of  pleasant  nonsense  said  and 
sung  to  it,  as  Bella  said  and  sung  to  this  baby  ; or  who 
was  dressed  and  undressed  as  often  in  four-and- twenty 
hours  as  Bella  dressed  and  undressed  this  baby  ; or  who 
was  held  behind  doors  and  poked  out  to  stop  its  father’s 
way  when  he  came  home,  as  this  baby  was  ; or,  in  a word, 
who  did  half  the  number  of  baby  things,  through  the 
lively  invention  of  a gay  and  proud  young  mother,  that 
this  inexhaustible  baby  did. 

The  inexhaustible  baby  was  two  or  three  months  old 
when  Bella  began  to  notice  a cloud  upon  her  husband’s 
brow.  Watching  it,  she  saw  a gathering  and  deepening 
anxiety  there,  which  caused  her  great  disquiet.  More 
than  once  she  awoke  him  muttering  in  his  sleep  ; and, 
though  he  muttered  nothing  worse  than  her  own  name, 
it  was  plain  to  her  that  his  restlessness  originated  in  some 
load  of  care.  Therefore,  Bella  at  length  put  In  her  claim 
to  divide  this  load,  and  bear  her  half  of  it. 

“ You  know,  John  dear,”  she  said,  cheerily  reverting 
to  their  former  conversation,  that  I hope  I may  safely 
be  trusted  in  great  things.  And  it  surely  cannot  be  a 
little  thing  that  causes  you  so  much  uneasiness.  It’s  very 
considerate  of  you  to  try  to  hide  from  me  that  you  are 
uncomfortable  about  something,  but  it’s  quite  impossible 
to  be  done,  John  love.” 

I admit  that  I am  rather  uneasy,  my  own.” 

Then  please  to  tell  me  what  about.  Sir.” 

But  no,  he  evaded  that.  Never  mind !”  thought 
Bella,  resolutely.  “ John  requires  me  to  put  perfect 
faith  in  him,  and  he  shall  not  be  disappointed.” 

She  went  up  to  London  one  day  to  meet  him,  in  order 
that  they  might  make  some  purchases.  She  found  him 


OTIR  MUTUAL  FRIEND* 


196 


waiting  for  her  at  her  journey’s  end,  and  they  walked 
away  together  through  the  streets.  He  was  in  gay 
spiritSj  though  still  harping  on  that  notion  of  their  being 
rich  ; and  he  said,  now  let  them  make  believe  that  yonder 
fine  carriage  was  theirs,  and  that  it  was  waiting  to  take 
them  home  to  a fine  house  they  had  : what  would  Bella, 
in  that  case,  best  like  to  find  in  the  house  ? Well  1 
Bella  didn’t  know  i already  having  every  thing  she 
wanted,  she  couldn’t  say;  But  by  degrees  she  was  led  on 
to  confess  that  she  would  like  to  have  for  the  inexhaust- 
ible baby  such  a nursery  as  never  was  seen.  It  v/as  to 
be  “ a very  rainbow  for  colors,”  as  she  was  quite  sure 
baby  noticed  colors  ; and  the  staircase  was  to  be  adorned 
with  the  most  exquisite  flowers,  as  she  was  absolutely 
certain  baby  noticed  flowers  ; and  there  was  to  be  an 
aviary  some  where,  of.  the  loveliest  little  birds,  as  there 
was  not  the  smallest  doubt  in  the  world  that  baby  noticed 
birds.  Was  there  nothing  else  ? No,  John  dear.  The 
predilections  of  the  inexhaustible  baby  being  provided 
for,  Bella  could  think  of  nothing  else. 

They  were  chatting  on  in  this  way,  and  John  had  sug- 
gested, ‘‘No  jewels  for  your  own  wear,  for  instance ?” 
and  Bella  had  replied,  laughing.  0 ! if  he  came  to  that, 
yes,  there  might  be  a beautiful  ivory  case  of  jewels  on  her 
dressing-table  ; when  these  pictures  were  in  a moment 
darkened  and  blotted  out. 

They  turned  a corner,  and  met  Mr*  Lightwood. 

He  stopped  as  if  he  were  petrified  by  the  sight  of 
Bella’s  husband,  who  in  the  same  moment  had  changed 
color. 

“ Mr.  Lightwood  and  I have  met  before,”  he  said. 

“ Met  before,  John  ?”  Bella  repeated  in  a tone  of 


196 


OXTB  IWrtTTTTAL  FRIEND* 


wonder.  “ Mr.  Lightwood  told  me  be  had  never  seen 
you/^ 

I did  not  then  know  that  I had/’  said  Lightwood, 
discomposed  on  her  account.  **  I believed  that  I had  only 
heard  of—Mr.  Kokesmith/'  With  an  emphasis  on  the 
name. 

When  Mr.  Lightwood  saw  me,  my  love,’’  observed 
her  husband,  not  avoiding  his  eye,  but  looking  at  him, 
*‘my  name  was  Julius  Handford.’^ 

Julius  Handford  1 The  name  that  Bella  had  so  often 
seen  in  old  newspapers,  when  she  was  an  inmate  of  Mr. 
Boffin’s  house  ! Julius  Handford,  who  had  been  publicly 
entreated  to  appear,  and  for  intelligence  of  wdiom  a re- 
ward had  been  publicly  offered  ! 

‘‘  I would  have  avoided  mentioning  it  in  your  presence,’’ 
said  Lightwood  to  Bella,  delicately  ; **  but  since  your 
husband  mentions  it  himself,  I must  confirm  his  strange 
admission.  I saw  him  as  Mr.  Julius  Handford,  and  I 
afterward  (unquestionably  to  his  knowledge)  took  great 
pains  to  trace  him  out.” 

Quite  true.  But  it  was  not  my  object  or  my  inte- 
rest,” said  Rokcsmith,  quietly,  to  be  traced  out.” 

Bella  looked  from  the  one  to  the  other  in  amazement. 

Mr.  Lightwood,”  pursued  her  husband,  as  chance 
has  brought  us  face  to  face  at  last — which  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at,  for  the  wonder  is,  that,  in  spite  of  all  my 
pains  to  the  contrary,  chance  has  not  confronted  us  toge- 
ther sooner — I have  only  to  remind  you  that  you  have 
been  at  my  house,  and  to  add  that  I have  not  changed 
my  residence.” 

“ Sir,”  returned  Lightwood,  with  a meaning  glance 
toward  Bella,  my  position  is  a truly  painful  one,  I 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


19Y 


hope  that  no  complicity  in  a very  dark  transaction  may 
attach  to  you  ; but  you  cannot  fail  to  know  that  your 
own  extraordinary  conduct  has  laid  you  under  suspi- 
cion.” 

“ I know  it  has,”  was  all  the  reply. 

“ My  professional  duty,”  said  Lightwood,  hesitating, 
with  another  glance  toward  Bella,  'Ms  greatly  at  variance 
with  my  personal  inclination ; but  I doubt,  Mr.  Hand- 
ford,  or  Mr.  Bokesmith,  whether  I am  justified  in  taking 
leave  of  you  here,  with  your  whole  course  unexplained.” 

Bella  caught  her  husband  by  the  hand. 

" Don’t  be  alarmed,  my  darling.  Mr.  Lightwood  will 
find  that  he  is  quite  justified  in  taking  leave  of  me  here. 
At  all  events,”  added  Rokesmith,  "he  will  find  that  I 
mean  to  take  leave  of  him  here.” 

"I  think.  Sir,”  said  Lightwood,  "you  can  scarcely 
deny  that  when  I came  to  your  house  on  the  occa- 
sion to  which  you  have  referred  you  avoided  me  of  a set 
purpose.” 

" Mr.  Lightwood,  I assure  you  I have  no  disposition 
to  deny  it,  or  intention  to  deny  it.  I should  have  con- 
tinued to  avoid  you,  in  pursuance  of  the  same  set  pur- 
pose, for  a short  time  longer,  if  we  had  not  met  now. 
I am  going  straight  home,  and  shall  remain  at  home  to- 
morrow until  noon.  Hereafter  I hope  we  may  be  better 
acquainted.  Good-day.” 

Lightwood  stood  irresolute,  but  Bella’s  husband  passed 
him  in  the  steadiest  manner,  with  Bella  on  his  arm  ; and 
they  went  home  without  encountering  any  further  remon- 
strance or  molestation  from  any  one. 

When  they  had  dined  and  were  alone,  John  Roke- 
smith  said  to  his  wife,  who  had  preserved  her  cheer- 


198 


OUK  MUTUAL  FRIEKD* 


fulness  : And  you  don’t  ask  mo,  my  dear,  why  I bore 

that  name 

ISTo,  John  love.  ' I should  dearly  like  to  know,  of 
course”  (which  her  anxious  face  confirmed) ; but  I wait 
until  you  can  tell  me  of  your  own  free-will.  You  asked 
me  if  I could  have  perfect  faith  in  you,  and  I said  yes, 
and  I meant  it.” 

It  did  not  escape  Bella’s  notice  that  he  began  to  look 
triumphant.  She  wanted  no  strengthening  in  her  firm- 
ness ; but  if  she  had  had  need  of  any,  she  would  have  de- 
rived it  from  his  kindling  face. 

You  can  not  have  been  prepared,  my  dearest,  for  such 
a discovery  as  that  this  mysterious  Mr.  Handford  was 
identical  with  your  husband  ?” 

‘‘No,  John  dear,  of  course  not.  But  you  told  me  to 
prepare  to  be  tried,  and  I prepared  myself.” 

He  drew  her  to  nestle  closer  to  him,  and  told  her  it 
would  soon  be  over  and  the  truth  would  soon  appear 
“ And  now,”  he  went  on,  “ lay  stress,  my  dear,  on  these 
words  that  I am  going  to  add.  I stand  in  no  kind  oi 
peril,  and  I can  by  possibility  be  hurt  at  no  one’s 
hand.” 

“ You  are  quite,  quite  sure  of  that,  John  dear  ?” 

“ Not  a hair  of  my  head  1 Moreover,  I have  done  nc 
wrong,  and  have  injured  no  man.  Shall  I swear  it  ?” 
“No,  John  !”  cried  Bella,  laying  her  hand  upon  his 
lips  with  a proud  look.  “ Never  to  me  !” 

“ But  circumstances,”  he  went  on,  “ — I can,  and  i 
will,  disperse  them  in  a moment — have  surrounded  me 
with  one  of  the  strangest  suspicions  ever  known.  You 
heard  Mr.  Lightwood  speak  of  a dark  transaction  ?” 

“ Yes,  John.” 


OUR  ]^IUTUAIi  FRIEND. 


19!) 


You  are  prepared  to  hear  explicitly  what  he 
meant  ?’^ 

Yes,  John.’^ 

My  life,  he  meant  the  murder  of  John  Harmon,  your 
allotted  husband.’^ 

With  a fast  palpitating  heart  Bella  grasped  him  by  the 
arm.  “ You  can  not  be  suspected,  John 
Dear  love,  I can  be — for  I am  !’’ 

There  was  silence  between  them  as  she  sat  looking  in 
Ills  face,  with  the  color  quite  gone  from  her  own  face  and 
lips.  How  dare  they  she  cried  at  length,  in  a burst 
of  generous  indignation.  “ My  beloved  husband,  how 
dare  they 

He  caught  her  in  his  arms  as  she  opened  hers,  and 
held  her  to  his  heart.  Even  knowing  this,  you  can  trust 
me,  Bella 

^‘1  can  trust  you,  John  dear,  with  all  my  soul.  If 
I could  not  trust  you,  I should  fall  dead  at  your 
feet.'^ 

The  kindling  triumph  in  his  face  was  bright  indeed  as 
lie  looked  up  and  rapturously  exclaimed,  what  had  he 
done  to  deserve  the  blessing  of  this  dear,  confiding  crea- 
ture^s  heart  ! Again  she  put  her  hand  upon  his  lips, 
saying,  Hush  and  then  told  him,  in  her  own  little, 
natural,  pathetic  way,  that  if  all  the  world  were  against 
him  she  would  be  for  him  ; that  if  all  the  world  repudi- 
ated him  she  would  believe  him  ; that  if  he  were  infamous 
in  other  eyes  he  would  be  honored  in  hers  ; and  that,  un- 
der the  worst  unmerited  suspicion,  she  v/ould  devote  her 
life  to  consoling  him,  and  imparting  her  own  faith  in  him 
to  their  little  child. 

A twilight  calm  of  happiness  then  succeeding  to  their 


200 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


radiant  noon,  they  remained  at  peace  until  a strange  voice 
in  the  room  startled  them  both.  The  room  being  by  that 
time  dark,  the  voice  said,  “ DonT  let  the  lady  be  alarmed 
by  my  striking  a light,”  and  immediately  a match  rattled 
and  glimmered  in  a hand.  The  hand  and  the  match 
and  the  voice  were  then  seen  by  John  Eokesmith  to  be- 
long to  Mr.  Inspector,  once  meditatively  active  in  this 
chronicle. 

I take  the  liberty,”  said  Mr.  Inspector,  in  a business- 
like manner,  to  bring  myself  to  the  recollection  of  Mr. 
Julius  Handford,  who  gave  me  his  name  and  address 
down  at  our  place  a considerable  time  ago.  Would  the 
lady  object  to  my  lighting  the  pair  of  candles  on  the 
chimney-piece,  to  throv/  a further  light  upon  tlie  subject  ? 
No  ? Thank  you,  ma^am.  Now  we  look  cheerful  !” 

Mr.  Inspector,  in  a dark-blue  buttoned-up  frock-coat 
and  pantaloons,  presented  a serviceable,  half-pay,  Royal 
Arms  kind  of  appeai^ance,  as  he  applied  his  pocket- 
handkerchief  to  his  nose  and  bowed  to  the  lady. 

You  favored  me,  Mr.  Handford,”  said  Mr.  Inspector, 
by  writing  down  your  name  and  address,  and  I produce 
the  piece  of  paper  on  which  you  wrote  it.  Comparing 
the  same  with  the  writing  on  the  fly-leaf  of  this  book  on 
the  table — and  a sweet  pretty  volume  it  is — I find  the 
writing  of  the  entry,  ‘ Mrs.  John  Rokesmith.  From  her 
husband  on  her  birthday’ — and  very  gratifying  to  the 
feelings  such  memorials  are — to  correspond  exactly.  Can 
I have  a word  with  you  ?” 

Certainly.  Here,  if  you  please,”  was  the  reply. 

“ Why,”  retorted  Mr.  Inspector,  again  using  his 
pocket-handkerchief,  “ though  there’s  nothing  for  the 
lady  to  be  at  all  alarmed  at,  still,  ladies  are  apt  to  take 


OUB  MeTlTAL  FBIEND. 


201 


alarm  at  matters  of  business — being  of  that  fragile  sex 
that  theyb-e  not  accustomed  to  them  when  not  of  a strict'* 
ly  domestic  character— and  I do  generally  make  it  a rule 
to  propose  retirement  from  the  presence  of  ladies,  before 
entering  upon  business  topics.  Or  perhaps,’’  Mr.  In- 
spector hinted,  ^‘if  the  lady  was  to  step  up  stairs,  and 
take  a look  at  baby  now  I” 

“ Mrs.  Kokesmith,”  her  husband  was  beginning  ; when 
Mr.  Inspector,  regarding  the  words  as  an  introduction, 
said,  “ Happy,  I am  sure,  to  have  the  honor.”  And 
bowed  with  gallantry. 

“ Mrs.  Rokesmith,”  resumed  her  husband,  “ is  satisfied 
that  she  can  have  no  reason  for  being  alarmed,  whatever 
the  business  is.” 

“Really?  Is  that  so?”  said  Mr.  Inspector.  “But 
it’s  a sex  to  live  and  learn  from,  and  there’s  nothing  a 
lady  can’t  accomplish  when  she  once  fully  gives  her  mind 
to  it.  It’s  the  case  with  my  own  wife.  Well,  ma’am, 
this  good  gentleman  of  yours  has  given  rise  to  a rather 
large  amount  of  trouble  which  might  have  been  avoided 
if  he  had  come  forward  and  explained  himself.  Well  you 
see  ! He  didnH  come  forward  and  explain  himself.  Con- 
sequently, now  that  we  meet,  him  and  me,  you’ll  say— 
and  say  right — that  there’s  nothing  to  be  alarmed  at,  in 
my  proposing  to  him  to  come  forward — or,  putting  the 
same  meaning  in  another  form,  to  come  along  with  me— 
and  explain  himself.” 

When  Mr.  Inspector  put  it  in  that  other  form,  “ to 
come  along  with  me,”  there  was  a relishing  roll  in  his 
voice,  and  his  eye  beamed  with  an  official  lustre. 

“ Do  you  propose  to  take  me  into  custody  ?”  inquired 
John  Rokesmith,  very  coolly. 

9* 


202 


OUR  MUtUAX  FRIEND. 


Why  argue  returned  Mr.  Inspector  in  a comfort- 
able sort  of  remonstrance  ; ain’t  it  enoug’n  that  I pro- 
pose that  you  shall  come  along  with  me 
“ For  what  reason  ?” 

Lord  bless  my  soul  and  body  !”  returned  Mr.  In- 
spector, I wonder  at  it  in  a man  of  your  education. 
Why  argue 

What  do  you  charge  against  me  ?” 

I wonder  at  you  before  a lady,”  said  Mr.  Inspector, 
shaking  his  head  reproachfully  : “ I wonder,  brought  up 
as  you  have  been,  you  haven’t  a more  delicate  mind  ! I 
charge  you,  then,  with  being  some  way  concerned  in  the 
Harmon  Murder.  I don’t  say  whether  before,  or  in,  or 
after,  the  fact.  I don’t  say  whether  with  having  some 
knowledge  of  it  that  hasn’t  come  out.” 

You  don’t  surprise  me.  I foresaw  your  visit  this 
afternoon.” 

'‘Don^t  !”  said  Mr.  Inspector.  Why,  why  argue? 
It’s  my  duty  to  inform  you  that  whatever  you  say  Will  be 
used  against  you.” 

I don’t  think  it  will.” 

But  I tell  you  it  will,”  said  Mr.  Inspector.  Now, 
having  received  the  caution,  do  you  still  say  that  you 
foresaw  my  visit  this  afternoon  ?” 

Yes.  And  I v/ill  say  something  more,  if  you  will 
step  with  me  into  the  next  room.” 

With  a reassuring  kiss  on  the  lips  of  the  frightened 
Bella,  her  husband  (to  whom  Mr.  Inspector  obligingly 
offered  his  arm)  took  up  a candle  and  withdrew  with  that 
gentleman.  They  were  a full  half-hour  in  conference. 
When  they  returned  Mr.  Inspector  looked  considerably 
astonished. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


203 


I have  invited  this  worthy  ofiicer,  my  dear,”  said 
John,  'Vto  make  a short  excursion  with  me  in  which  you 
shall  be  a.  sharer.  He  will  take  something  to  eat  and 
drink,  I dare  say,  on  your  invitation,  while  you  are  get- 
ting your  bonnet  on.” 

Mr.  Inspector  declined  eating,  but  assented  to  tlie  pro- 
posal of  a glass  of  brandy  and  water.  Mixing  this  cold, 
and  pensively  consuming  it,  he  broke  at  intervals  into 
such  soliloquies  as  tliat  he  never  did  know  such  a move, 
that  he  never  had  been  so  graveled,  and  that  what  a 
game  was  this  to  try  the  sort  of  stuff  a man’s  opinion  of 
himself  was  made  of  ! Concurrently  with  these  com- 
ments, he  more  than  once  burst  out  a laughing,  with  the 
half-enjoying  and  half-piqued  air  of  a man  who  had  given 
up  a good  conundrum,  after  much  guessing,  and  been  told 
the  answer.  Bella  was  so  timid  of  him,  that  she  noted 
these  things  in  a half-shrinking,  half-perceptive  way,  and 
similarly  noted  that  there  was  a great  change  in  his  man- 
ner toward  John.  That  coming-along-with-him*  deport- 
ment was  now  lost  in  long  musing  looks  at  John  and  at 
herself,  and  sometimes  in  slow  heavy"  rubs  of  his  hand 
across  his  forehead,  as  if  he  were  ironing  out  the  creases 
which  his  deep  pondering  made  there.  He  had  had  some 
coughing  and  whistling  satellites  secretly  gravitating 
toward  him  about  the  premises,  but  they  were  now  dis- 
missed, and  be  eyed  John  as  if  lie  had  meant  to  do  him  a 
public  service,  but  had  unfortunately  been  anticipated. 
Whether  Bella  might  have  noted  any  thing  more,  if  she 
had  been  less  afraid  of  him,  she  could  not  determine  ; but 
it  was  all  inexplicable  to  her,  and  not  the  faintest  flash 
of  the  real  state  of  the  case  broke  in  upon  her  mind.  Mr. 
Inspector's  increased  notice  of  herself,  and  knowing  way 


204 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


of  raising  liis  eyebrows  wlien  their  eyes  by  any  chance 
met,  as  if  he  put  the  question  “ Don’t  you  see  aug- 
mented her  timidity,  and,  comsequently,  her  perplexity. 
For  all  these  reasons,  when  he  and  she  and  John,  at- 
toward  nine  o’clock  of  a winter  evening,  went  to  London, 
and  began  driving  from  London  Bridge,  among  low-Iying 
water-side  wharves  and  docks  and  strange  places,  Bella 
was  in  the  state  of  a dreamer  ; perfectly  unable  to  account 
for  her  being  there,  perfectly  unable  to  forecast  what 
would  happen  next,  or  whither  she  was  going,  or  why  ; 
certain  of  nothing  in  the  immediate  present,  but  that  she 
confided  in  John,  and  that  John  seemed  somehow  to  be 
getting  more  triumphant.  But  what  a certainty  was 
that  ! 

They  alighted  at  last  at  the  corner  of  a court,  where 
there  was  a building  with  a bright  lamp  and  a wicket 
gate.  Its  orderly  appearance  was  very  unlike  that  of  the 
surrounding  neighborhood,  and  was  explained  by  the 
inscription  Police  Station. 

“ We  are  not  going  in  here,  John  said  Bella,  cling- 
ing to  him. 

Yes,  my  dear  ; but  of  our  own  accord.  We  shall 
come  out  again  as  easily,  never  fear.” 

The  whitewashed  room  was  pure  white  as  of  old,  the 
methodical  book-keeping  was  in  peaceful  progress  as  of 
old,  and  some  distant  howler  was  banging  against  a cell 
door  as  of  old.  The  sanctuary  was  not  a permanent 
abiding-place  ; but  a kind  of  criminal  Pickford’s.  The 
lower  23assions  and  vices  were  regularly  ticked  off  in  the 
books,  warehoused  in  the  cells,  carted  away  as  per  ac- 
companying invoice,  and  left  no  mark  upon  it. 

Mr.  Inspector  placed  two  chairs  for  his  visitors  before 


CUE  MUTUAL  FRIEND* 


205 


the  fire,  and  communed  in  a low  voice  with  a brother  of 
his  order  (also  of  a half-pay  and  Royal  Arms  aspect)-, 
who,  judged  only  by  his  occupation  at  the  moment,  might 
have  been  a writing-master,  setting  copies.  Their  con- 
ference done,  Mr.  Inspector  returned  to  the  fire-place, 
and,  having  observed  that  he  would  step  round  to  the 
Fellowships  and  see  how  matters  stood,  went  out.  He 
soon  came  back  again,  saying,  Nothing  could  be  better, 
for  theyh’e  at  supper  with  Miss  Ai^ey  in  the  bar  f and 
then  they  all  three  v*^ent  out  together. 

Still,  as  in  a dream,  Bella  found  herself  entering  a 
snug  old-fashioned  public  house,  and  found  herself 
smuggled  into  a little  three-cornered  room  nearly  op- 
posite the  bar  of  that  establishment.  Mr.  Inspector 
achieved  the  smuggling  of  herself  and  John  into  this 
queer  room,  called  Cozy  in  an  inscription  on  the  door,^ 
by  entering  in  the  narrow  passage  first  in  order,  and 
suddenly  turning  round  upon  them  with  extended 
arms,  as  if  they  had  been  two  sheep.  The  roon\,  was 
lighted  for  their  reception. 

Now,”  said  Mr.  Inspector  to  John,  turning  the  gas 
lower  ; “ Fll  mix  with  ’em  in  a casual  way,  and  when 
I say  Identification,  perhaps  you’ll  show  yourself.” 

John  nodded,  and  Mr.  Inspector  went  alone  to  the 
half-door  of  the  bar.  From  the  dim  doQrway  of  Cozy, 
within  which  Bella  and  her  husband  stood,  they  could 
sec  a comfortable  little  party  of  three  persons  sitting 
at  supper  in  the  bar,  and  could  hearxevery  thing  that 
wuis  said. 

The  three  persons  were  Miss  Abbey  and  two  male 
guests.  To  whom  collectively  Mr.  Inspector  remarked 
that  the  weather  was  getting  sharp  for  the  time  of 
year. 


S06 


OTTK  ML’TtTAL  FPJEKB. 


It  need  be  sharp  to  suit  }^our  wits,  Sir/’  said  Mias 
Abbey.  What  have  you  g*ot  in  hand  now 

Thanking  you  for  your  coinplinierit  : not  much, 
Miss  Abbey, was  Mr.  Inspector’s  rejoinder.- 

''  Who  have  you  got  in  Cozy  ?”  asked  Miss  Abbey. 

“ Only  a gentleman  and  his  wife,  Miss.” 

‘‘  And  who  are  they  ? If  one  may  ask  it  without 
detriment  to  your  deep  plans  in  the  interests  of  the 
honest  public  said  Miss  Abbey,  proud  of  Mr.  In- 
spector as  an  administrative  genius. 

They  arc  strangers  in  this  part  of  the  town,  Miss 
Abbey.  They  are  waiting  till  I shall  want  the  gen- 
tleman to  show  himself  somewhere,  for  half  a mo- 
ment.” 

^ While  you’re  waiting,”  said  Miss  Abbey,  “couldn’t 
you  join  us?” 

Mr.  Inspector  immediatel}^  slipped  into  the  bar,  and 
sat  down  at  the  side  of  the  half-door,  wdth  his  back 
toward  the  passage,  and  directly  facing  the  two 
guests.  “ 1 don’t  take  my  stepper  till  later  in  the 
night,”  said  he,  “ and  therefore  I won’t  disturb  the 
compactness  of  the  table.  But  I’ll  take  a glass  of  flip, 
if  that’s  flip  in  the  jug  in  the  fender.” 

“ That’s  flip,”  replied  Miss  Abbey,  “ and  it’s  my 
making,  and  if  even  you  can  find  out  better  I shall  be 
glad  to  know  where.”  Filling  him,  wdth  hospitable 
hands,  a steomiiig  tumbler.  Miss  Abbey  replaced  the 
jug  by  the  fire;  the  company  not  having  yet  arrived 
at  the  flip  stage  of  their  supper,  but  being  as  yet 
skirmishing  with  strong  ale. 

“ Ah — h !”  cried  Mr.  Inspector.  “ That’s  the  smack  I 
There’s  not  a Detective  in  the  Force,  MiswS  Abbey,  that 
could  find  out  better  stuff  than  that.” 


OVn  :MUTtJAt  FRIEKD. 


207 


Glad  to  hear  you  say  so,’^  rejoined  Miss  Abbey. 

You  ought  to  know,  if  any  body  does.’’ 

Mr.  Job  Pottersoii,”  Mr.  Inspector  continued,/^! 
drink  your  health.  Mr.  Jacob  Kibble,  I drink  yours. 
Hope  3^ou  have  made  a prosperous  voyage  home,  gen- 
tlemen both.” 

Mr.  Kibble,  an  unctuous  broad  man  of  few  words 
and  many  mouthfuls,  said,  more  briefly  than  pointed- 
ly", raising  his  ale  to  his  lips : Same  to  ymu.”  Mr. 

Job  Potterson,  a semi-seafaring  man  of  obliging  de- 
meanor, said,  “ Thank  ymu,  Sir.” 

Lord  bless  my  soul  and  body  cried  Mr.  Inspec- 
tor. Talk  of  trades,  Miss  Abbeys,  and  the  way^  they 
set  their  marks  on  men”  (a  subject  which  nobody  had 
approached)  ; **  who  wouldn’t  know  your  brother  to 
be  a Steward  ! There’s  a bright  and  ready  twinkle 
in  his  eye,  there’s  a neatness  in  his  action,  there’s  a 
smartness  in  his  figure,  there’s  an  air  of  reliability  about 
him  in  case  you  wanted  a basing  which  points  out  the 
steward  ! And  Mr.  Kibble ; ain’t  he  Passenger,  all 
over  ? While  there’s  that  mercantile  cut  upon  him 
which  would  make  you  happy  to  give  him  credit  for 
five  hundred  pound,  don’t  you  see  the  salt  sea  shining 
on  him  too  ?” 

“ You  do,  I dare  say,”  returned  Miss  Abbe}^,  but 
J don’t.  And  as  for  stewarding,  I think  it’s  time  my 
brother  gave  that  up,  and  took  this  House  in  hand  on 
his  sister’s  retiring.  The  House  will  go  to  pieces  if 
he  don’t.  I wouldn’t  sell  it  for  any  money  that  could 
be  told  out,  to  a person  that  I couldn’t  depend  upon 
to  be  a Law  to  the  Porters,  as  I have  been.” 

There  you’re  right,  Miss,”  said  Mr.  Inspector 


208 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


A better  kept  house  is  uot  known  to  our  men. 
What  do  I say  ? Half  so  well  a kept  house  is  not 
known  to  our  men.  Show  the  Force  the  Six  Jolly 
Fellowship  Porters,  and  the  Force — to  a constable — * 
will  show  you  a piece  of  perfection,  Mr.  Kibble.’^ 

That  gentleman,  with  a very  serious  shake  of  the 
head,  subscribed  the  article. 

And  talk  of  Time  slipping  by  you,  as  if  it  was  an 
animal  at  rustic  sports  with  his  tail  soaped,^’  said  Mr. 
Inspector  (again,  a subject  which  nobody  had  ap- 
proached) ; why,  well  you  may.  Well  }^.ou  may. 
How  has  it  slipped  by  us,  since  the  time  when  Mr. 
Job  Potterson  here  present,  Mr.  Jacob  Kibble  here 
present,  and  an  Officer  of  the  Force  here  present,  first 
came  together  on  a matter  of  Identification 

Bella’s  husband  stepped  softly  to  the  half-door  of 
the  bar,  and  stood  there. 

‘‘  How  has  time  slipped  by  us,”  Mr.  Inspector  went 
on  slowly,  with  his  ej^es  narrowly  observant  of  the 
two  guests,  since  we  three  very  men,  at  an  Inquest 
in  this  very  house — Mr.  Kibble  ? Taken  ill.  Sir  ?” 
Mr.  Kibble  had  staggered  up,  with  his  lower  jaw 
dropped,  catching  Potterson  b}^  the  shoulder,  and 
pointing  to  the  half-door.  He  now  cried  out  : “ Pot- 
terson ! Look  ! Look  there  I”  Potterson  started 
up,  started  back,  and  exclaimed;  Heaven  defend 
us,  what’s  that?”  Bella’s  husband  stepped  back  to 
Bella,  and  took  her  in  his  arms  (for  she  was  terrified 
by  the  unintelligible  terror  of  the  two  men),  and  shut 
the  door  of  the  little  room.  A hurry  of  voices  suc- 
ceeded, in  which  Mr.  Inspector’s  voice  was  busiest; 
it  gradually  slackened  and  sank  ; and  Mr.  Inspector 


OUR  KUTUAL  FRIEND. 


209 


reappeared.  Sharp’s  the  word,  Sir  !”  he  said,  look- 
ing in  with  a knowing  wink.  We’ll  get  your  lady 
out  at  once.”  Immediately  Bella  and  her  husband 
were  under  the  stars,  making  their  way  back  alone  to 
the  vehicle  they  had  kept  in  waiting. 

All  this  was  most  extraordinary,  and  Bella  could 
make  nothing  of  it  but  that  John  was  in  the  right 
How  in  the  right,  and  how  suspected  of  being  in  the 
wrong,  she  could  not  divine.  Some  vague  idea  that 
he  had  never  really  assumed  the  name  of  Handford, 
and  that  there  was  a remarkable  likeness  between 
him  and  that  mysterious  person,  was  her  nearest  ap- 
proach to  any  definite  explanation.  But  John  was 
triumphant  ; that  much  was  made  apparent ; and  she 
could  wait  for  the  rest. 

When  John  came  home  to  dinner  next  day  he  said, 
sitting  down  on  the  sofa  by  Bella  and  baby-Bella  : — 
**  My  dear,  I have  a piece  of  news  to  tell  you.  I have 
left  the  China  House.” 

As  he  seemed  to  like  having  left  it,  Bella  took  it 
for  granted  that  there  was  no  misfortune  in  the  case. 

“In  a word,  my  love,”  said  John,  “ the  China  House 
is  broken  up  and  abolished.  There  is  no  such  thing 
any  more.” 

“ Then  you  are  already  in  another  House,  John  ?” 
Yes,  iny  darling.  I am  iu  another  way  of  busi- 
ness. And  I am  rather  better  olf.” 

The  inexhaustible  baby  was  instantly  made  to  con- 
gratulate him,  and  to  say,  with  appropriate  action  on 
the  part  of  a very  limp  arm  and  a speckled  fist  : — 
“ Three  cheers,  ladies  and  gemplemorums.  Hoo — 
ray!” 


210 


OUE  MUTUAL  FETEND. 


I am  afraid,  my  said  John,  that  you  have 

become  very  much  attached  to  this  cottage 
Afraid  I have,  John  ? Of  course  I have.’^ 

‘‘  The  reason  why  I said  afraid,’’  returned  John,  ^^is, 
because  we  must  move.” 

0 John  !” 

Yes,  my  dear,  we  must  move.  We  must  have  our 
head-quarters  in  London  now.  In  short,  there’s  a 
dwelling-house  rent-free,  attached  to  my  new  position, 
and  we  must  occupy  it.” 

That’s  a gain,  John.” 

Yes,  my  dear,  it  is  undoubtedly  a gain.” 

He  gave  her  a very  blithe  look,  and  a very  sly  look. 
Which  occasioned  the  inexhaustible  baby  to  square  at 
him  with  the  speckled  fists,  and  demand  in  a threaten- 
ing manner  what  he  meant  ? 

“ My  love,  you  said  it  was  a gain,  and  I said  it  was 
a gain.  A very  innocent  remark,  surely.” 

1 won’t,”  said  the  inexhaustible  baby,  — allow — 
you — to  make — game — of — my — venerable — Ma.”  At 
each  division  administering  a soft  facer  with  one  of 
the  speckled  fists. 

John  having  stooped  down  to  receive  these  punish- 
ing visitations,  Bella  asked  him,  would  it  be  necessary 
to  move  soon  ? Wh}"  yes,  indeed  (said  John),  he  did 
propose  that  they  should  move  very  soon.  Taking 
the  turiiiture  with  them,  of  course  (said  Bella)  ? Why, 
no  (said  John),  the  fact  was,  that  the  house  was — in 
a sort  of  a kind  of  a way — furnished  already. 

The  inexhaustible  baby,  hearing  this,  resumed  the 
offensive,  and  said  : But  there’s  no  nursery  for  me, 

Sir.  ^Vhat  do  you  mean,  marble-hearted  parent  ?”  To 


OUR  JvIUTUAL  FRIEND. 


211 


which  the  marhle-fiearted  parent  rejoined  that  there 
was  a — sort  of  a kind  of  a — nursery,  and  it  might  be 
“ made  to  do.”  Made  to  do  returned  the  Inex- 
haustible, administering  more  punishment : what  do 

you  take  me  for?”  And  was  then  turned  over  on  its 
back  in  Beliaks  lap,  and  smothered  with  kisses. 

“ But  really,  John  dear,”  said  Bella,  flushed  in  quite  a 
lovely  manner  by  these  exercises,  will  the  new  house, 
just  as  it  stands,  do  for  baby  ? That’s  the  question.’’ 

“ I felt  that  to  be  the  question,”  he  returned,  “ and 
therefore  I arranged  that  you  should  come  with  me  and 
look  at  it  to-morrow  morning.”  Appointment  made,  ac- 
cordingly, for  Bella  to  go  up  with  him  to-morrow  morn- 
ing ; John  kissed  ; and  Bella  delighted. 

When  they  reached  London  in  pursuance  of  their  little 
plan  they  took  coach  and  drove  westward.  Not  only 
drove  westward,  but  drove  into  that  particular  westward 
division  which  Bella  had  seen  last  when  she  turned  her 
face  from  Mr.  Boffin’s  door.  Not  only  drove  into  that 
particular  division,  but  drove  at  last  into  that  very  street. 
Not  only  drove  into  that  very  street,  but  stopped  at  la^t 
at  that  very  house. 

John  dear  !”  cried  Bella,  looking  out  of  window  in  a 
flutter.  Bo  you  see  where  v»^e  arc  ?” 

Yes,  my  love.  The  coachman’s  quite  right.” 

The  house  door  was  opened  without  any  knocking  or 
ringing,  and  John  promptly  helped  her  out.  The  servant 
who  stood  holding  the  door  asked  no  question  of  John, 
neither  did  he  go  before  them  or  follow  them  as  they 
went  straight  up  stairs.  It  was  only  her  husband’s  encir- 
cling arm,  urging  her  on,  that  prevented  Bella  from  stop- 
ping at  the  foot  of  the  staircase.  As  they  ascended,  it 


212 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


was  seen  to  be  tastefully  ornamented  with  most  beautiful 
flowers. 

0 John  said  Bella,  faintly.  What  does  this 
mean 

Nothing,  my  darling,  nothing.  Let  us  go  on.^^ 

Going  on  a little  higher,  they  came  to  a charming 
aviary,  in  which  a number  of  tropical  birds,  more  gorgeous 
ill  color  than  the  -flowers,  were  flying  about ; and  among 
those  birds  were  gold  and  silver  fish,  and  mosses,  and 
water-lilies,  and  a fountain,  and  all  manner  of  wonders. 

0 my  dear  John  said  Bella.  What  does  this 
mean 

“ Nothing,  my  darling,  nothing.  Let  us  go  on.” 

They  went  on,  until  they  came  to  a door.  As  John 
put  out  bis  hand  to  open  it,  Bella  caught  his  hand. 

‘‘  I don^t  know  what  it  means,  but  it’s  too  much  for  me. 
Hold  me,  John,  love.” 

John  caught  her  up  in  his  arm,  and  lightly  dashed  into 
the  room  with  her. 

Behold  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin,  beaming  ! Behold  Mrs. 
Boffin  clapping  her  hands  in  an  ecstasy,  running  to  Bella 
with  tears  of  joy  pouring  down  her  comely  face,  and  fold- 
ing her  to  her  comfortable  breast,  with  the  words  : My 

deary  deary,  deary  girl,  that  Noddy  and  me  saw  married 
and  couldn’t  wish  joy  to,  or  so  much  as  speak  to  ! My 
deary,  deary,  deary,  wife  of  John  and  mother  of  his  little 
child  ! My  loving  loving,  bright  bright,  Pretty  Pretty  I 
Welcome  to  your  house  and  home,  my  deary  !” 


CUE  MXrrUAL  FRIEKD. 


213 


CHAPTER  XIIL 

SHOWING  HOW  THE  GOLDEN  DUSTMAN  HELPED  TO  SCATTER 
DUST. 

In  all  the  first  bewilderment  of  her  wonder,  the  most 
bewilderinglj  wonderful  ‘thing  to  Bella  was  the  shining 
countenance  of  Mr,  Boffin.  That  his  wife  should  be  joy- 
ous, open-hearted,  and  genial,  or  that  her  face  should  ex- 
press every  quality  that  was  large  and  trusting,  and  no 
quality  that  was  little  or  mean,  was  accordant  with 
Bella’s  experience.  But  that  he,  with  a perfectly  benefi- 
cent air  and  a plump  rosy  face,  should  be  standing  there, 
looking  at  her  and  John,  like  some  jovial  good  spirit,  was 
marvelous.  For,  how  had  he  looked  when  she  last  saw 
him  in  that  v^ry  room  (it  was  the  room  in  which  she  had 
given  him  that  piece  of  her  mind  at  parting),  and  jvhat 
had  become  of  all  those  crooked  lines  of  suspicion,  avar- 
ice, and  distrust,  that  twisted  his  visage  then  ? 

Mrs.  Boffin  seated  Bella  on  the  large  ottoman,  and 
seated  herself  beside  her,  and  John  her  husband  seated 
himself  on  the  other  side  of  her,  and  Mr.  Boffin  stood 
beaming  at  every  one  and  every  thing  he  could  see,  with 
surpassing  jollity  and  enjoyment.  Mrs.  Boffin  was  then 
takeu  with  a laughing  fit  of  clapping  her  hands,  and  clap- 
ping her  knees,  and  rocking  herself  to  and  fro,  and 
then  with  another  laughing  tit  of  embracing  Bella,  and 


214  OVR  MUTUAL  FBIEKD. 

rocking  her  to  and  fro — both  fits  of  considerablo 
auration. 

Old  lady,  old  Iad}V^  said  Mr.  Boffin,  at  length  j if 
you  don’t  begin  somebody  else  must.’’ 

Pm  agoing  to  begin,  Noddy,  my  dear,”  returned  Mrs* 
Boffin.  “ Only  it  isn’t  easy  for  a person  to  know  where 
to  begin,  when  a person  is  in  this  state  of  delight  and 
happiness.  Bella,  my  dear.  Tell  me,  who’s  this  ?” 

Who  is  this  ?”  repeated  Bella.  My  husband.” 

Ah  ! But  tell  me  bis  name,  deary  I”  cried  Mrs* 
Boffin. 

Eokesmith,” 

No,  it  ain’t  I”  cried  Mrs.  Boffin,  clapping  her  hands, 
and  shaking  her  head.  “Not  a bit  of  it.” 

“ Handford,  then,”  suggested  Bella. 

“ No,  it  ain’t  !”  cried  Mrs.  Boffin,  again  clapping  her 
hands  and  shaking  her  head*  “ Not  a bit  of  it.” 

“ At  least  his  name  is  John,  I suppose  ?”  said 
Bella. 

“ Ah  ! I should  think  so,  deary  1”  cried  Mrs.  Boffin. 
“ I should  hope  so  1 Many  and  many  is  the  time  I have 
called  him  by  his  name  of  John.  But  what’s  his  other 
name,  his  true  other  name  ? Give  a guess,  my  pretty  !” 

“ I can’t  guess,”  said  Bella,  turning  her  pale  face  from 
one  to  another. 

“ I could,”  cried  Mrs.  Boffin,  “ and  what’s  more,  I did  I 
I found  him  out,  all  in  a flash,  as  I may  say,  one  night. 
Didn’t  I,  Noddy  ?” 

“ Ay  ! That  the  old  lady  did  !”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  with 
stout  pride  in  the  circumstance. 

“ Harkee  to  me,  deary,”  pursued  Mrs.  Boffin,  taking 
Bella’s  bands  between  her  own,  and  gently  beating  on 


OUK  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


215 


them  from  time  to  time.  It  was  after  a particular  night 
when  John  had  been  disappointed— as  he  thouglit — in  his 
affections.  It  was  after  a night  when  John  had  made  an. 
offer  to  a certain  young  lady,  and  tlie  certain  young  lady 
had  refused  it.  It  w^as  after  a particular  night,  when  he 
felt  himself  cast-away-like,  and  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
go  . seek  his  fortune.  It  was  the  very  next  night.  My 
Noddy  wanted  a paper  out  of  his  Secretary’s  room,  and 
I says  to  Noddy,  ‘ I am  going  by  the  door,  and  I’ll  ask 
him  for  it.’  1 tapped  at  his  door,  and  he  didn’t  hear  me. 
I looked  in,  and  saw  him  a sitting  lonely  by  his  ffre, 
brooding^ over  it.  He  chanced  to  look  up  wdth  a pleased 
kind  of  smile  in  my  company  when  he  saw  me,  and  then 
in  a single  moment  every  grain  of  the  gunpowder  that 
had  been  lying  sprinkled  thick  about  him  ever  since  I first 
set  eyes  upon  him  as  a man  at  the  Bower,  took  fire  I 
Too  many  a time  had  I seen  him  sitting  lonely,  when  lie 
was  a poor  child,  to  be  pitied  heart  and  hand  I Too 
many  a time  had  I seen  him  in  need  of  being  brightened 
up  with  a comforting  word  1 Too  many  and  too  many  a 
time  to  be  mistaken,  when  that  glimpse  of  him  come  at 
last  ! No,  no  ! I just  makes  out  to  cry,  ‘ I know  you 
now  ! You’re  John  !’  And  he  catches  me  as  I drops. — 
So  what,”  said  Mrs.  Boffin,  breaking  off  in  the  rush  of 
her  speech  to  smile  most  radiantly,  “ might  you  thiuk  by 
this  time  that  your  husband’s  name  was,  dear  ?” 

“Not,”  returned  Bella,  wdtli%  quivering  lips;  “not 
Harmon  ? That’s  not  possible  ?” 

“ Don’t  tremble.  Why  not  possible,  deary,  when  so 
many  things  are  possible  ?”  demanded  Mrs.  Boffin,  in  a 
soothing  tone. 

“ He  was  killed,”  gasped  Bella,. 


216 


OljR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


^‘Thought  to  be/^  said  Mrs.  BoflSn.  ‘‘But  if  ever 
John  Harmon  drew  the  breath  of  life  on  earth,  that  is 
certainly  John  Harraon's  arm  round  your  waist  now,  my 
pretty.  If  ever  John  Harmon  had  a wife  on  earth,  that 
wife  is  certainly  you.  If  ever  John  Harmon  and  his  wife 
had  a child  on  earth,  that  child  is  certainly  this.” 

By  a master-stroke  of  secret  arrangement  the  inex- 
haustible baby  here  appeared  at  the  door,  suspended  in 
mid-air  by  invisible  agency.  Mrs.  Boffin,  j^lunging  at  it, 
brought  it  to  Beliaks  lap,  where  both  Mrs.  and  Mr.  Boffin 
(as  the  saying  is)  “ took  it  out  of”  the  Inexhaij^tible  in 
a shower  of  caresses.  It  was  only  this  timely  appearance 
that  kept  Bella  from  swooning.  This,  and  her  husband^s 
earnestness  in  explaining  further  to  her  how  it  had  come 
to  pass  that  he  bad  been  supposed  to  be  slain,  and  had 
even  been  suspected  of  his  own  murder  ; also,  how  he 
had  put  a pious  fraud  upon  her  which  had  preyed  upon 
his  mind,  as  the  time  for  its  disclosure  approached,  lest 
she  might  not  make  full  allowance  for  the  object  with 
which  it  had  originated,  and  in  which  it  had  fully 
developed. 

“ But  bless  ye,  my  beauty  1”  cried  Mrs.  Boffin,  taking 
him  up  short  at  this  point,  with  another  hearty  clap  of 
her  hands.  “ It  w^asn’t  John  only  that  was  in  it.  We 
was  all  of  us  in  it.” 

‘‘  I donT.,”  said  Bella,  looking  vacantly  from  one  to 
another,  “ yet  understand — ” 

“ Of  course  you  donT,  my  deary,”  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Boffin.  “ How  can  you  till  you^re  told  1 So  now  I am 
agoing  to  tell  you.  So  you  put  your  two  hands  between 
my  two  hands  again,”  cried  the  comfortable  creature^ 
embracing  her,  “ with  that  blessed  little  picter  lying  on 


OUB  MUTUAL  FBIEND. 


217 


your  lap,  and  you  sliall  be  told  all  the  story.  Now,  Pin 
agdlng  to  tell  the  story.  Once,  tVice,  three  times,  and 
the  horses  is  off.  Here  they  go  I When  I cries  out  that 
night,  ^ I know  you  now,  youh'e  John/ — which  was  my 
exact  words  ; wasn’t  they,  John 

Your  exact  words,”  said  John,  laying  his  hand  on 
hers. 

That’s  a very  good  arrangement,”  cried  Mrs.  Boffin. 
Keep  it  there,  John.  And  as  we  was  all  of  us  in  it, 
Noddy  you  come  and  lay  yours  a top  of  his,  and  we  won’t 
break  the  pile  till  the  story’s  done.” 

Mr.  Boffin  hitched  up  a chair  and  added  his  broad 
brown  right  hand  to  the  heap. 

That’s  capital  !”  said  Mrs.  Boffin,  giving  it  a kiss. 
Seems  quite  a family  building  ; don’t  it  ? But  the 
horses  is  off.  Well  ! When  I cries  out  that  night, 
know  you  now  ! you’re  John  !’  Jolm  catches  of  me,  it  is 
true  ; but  I ain’t  a light  weight,  bless  ye,  and  he’s  forced 
to  let  me  down.  Noddy,  he  hears  a noise,  and  in  he 
trots,  and  as  soon  as  I anyways  comes  to  myself  I calls  to 
him,  ^ Noddy,  well  I might  say  as  I did  say,  that  night  at 
the  Bower,  for  the  Lord  be  thankful  this  is  John  I’  On 
which  he  gives  a heave,  and  down  he  goes  likewise,  with 
his  head  under  the  writing-table.  This  brings  me  round 
comfortable,  and  that  brings  him  round  comfortable,  and 
then  John  and  him  and  me  w^e  all  fall  a crying  for 

**  Yes  ! They  cry  for  joy,  my  darling,”  her  husband 
struck  in.  You  understand  ? These  two,  whom  I come 
to  life  to  disappoint  and  dispossess,  cry  for  joy  !” 

Bella  looked  at  him  confusedly,  and  looked  again  at 
Mrs.  Boffin’s  radiant  face. 


218 


OTJE  MUTOAL  FEIEND. 


‘‘  That’s  right,  my  dear,  don’t  you  mind  him,”  said  Mrs. 
Boffin,  “ stick  to  me.  Well  ! Then  we  sits  down,  gradu- 
ally gets  cool,  and  holds  a confabulation.  John,  he  telis 
us  how  he  is  despairing  in  his  mind  on  accounts  of  a cer- 
tain fair  young  person,  and  'how,  if  I hadn’t  found  him 
out,  he  was  going  away  to  seek  his  fortune  far  and  wide, 
and  had  fully  meant  never  to  come  to  life,  but  to  leave 
the  property  as  our  wrongful  inheritance  forever  and  a 
day.  At  v/hich  you  never  see  a man  so  frightened  as  my 
Noddy  was.  For  to  think  that  he  should  have  come  into 
the  property  wrongful,  however  innocent,  and — more  than 
that — might  have  gone  on  keeping  it  to  his  dying  day, 
turned  him  whiter  than  chalk.” 

‘‘  And  you  too,”  said  Mr.  Boffin. 

Don’t  you  mind  him,  neither,  my  deary,”  resumed 
Mrs.  Boffin  ; “stick  to  me.  This  brings  up  a confabula- 
tion regarding  the  certain  fair  young  person  ; when 
Noddy  he  gives  it  as  his  opinion  that  she  is  a deary 
creetur.  ^ She  may  be  a leetle  spoilt,  and  nat’rally  spoilt,’ 
he  says,  ^ by  circumstances,  but  that’s  only  on  the  surface, 
and  I lay  ray  life,’  he  says,  ' that  she’s  the  true  golden 
gold  at  heart.’  ” 

“ So  did-you,”  said  Mr.  Boffin. 

“ Don’t  you  mind  him  a single  morsel,  my  dear,”  pro- 
ceeded Mrs.  Boffin,  “ but  stick  to  me.  ' Then  says  John, 
0,  if  he  could  but  prove  so  ! Then  we  both  of  us  ups 
jmd  says,  that  minute,  ‘ Prove  so  !’” 

With  a start  Bella  directed  a hunied  glace  toward  Mr. 
Boffin.  But  he  was  sitting  thoughtfully  smiling  at  that 
broad  brown  hand  of  his,  and  either  didn’t  see  it,  or 
would  take  no  notice  of  it. 

“ < Prove  it,  John  !’  we  says,”  repeated  Mis.  Bo^n. 


OtJE  IklUtUAL  FKIEND. 


m 


i f rove  it  and  overcome  your  doubts  with  triumph,  and 
be  happy  for  the  first  time  in  your  life,  and  for  the  rest  of 
your  life.^  This  puts  John  in  a state,  to  be  sure.  Then 
we  says,  ' What  will  content  you  ? If  she  was  to  stand 
up  for  you  when  you  was  slighted,  if  she  was  to  sho^ 
herself  of  a generous  mind  when  you  was  oppressed,  if  she 
was  to  be  truest  to  you  when  you  wa-s  poorest  and  friend- 
liest, and  all  this  against  her  own  seeming  interest,  how 
would  that  do?^  ^ Do  says  John,  'it  would  raise  me 
to  the  skies.^  ' Then,’  says  my  Koddy,  ' make  your  pre- 
parations for  the  ascent,  John,  it  being  my  firm  belief  that 
up  you  go  V 

Bella  caught  Mi%  Boffin’s  twinkling  eye  for  half  an 
instant  ; but  he  got  it  away  from  her  and  restored  it  to 
his  broad  brown  hand. 

" From  the  first  you  was  always  a special  favorite  of 
Noddy’s,”  said  Mrs.  Boffin,  shaking  her  head*  " 0 you 
were  ! And  if  I had  been  inclined  to  be  jealous,  I don’t 
know  what  I mightn’t  have  done  to  you.  But  as  I 
wasn’t— why,  my  beauty,”  with  a hearty  laugh  and  an 
embrace,  " I made  you  a special  favorfte  of  my  own  too. 
But  the  horses  is  coming  round  the  corner.  Well  I Then 
says  my  Noddy,  shaking  his  sides  till  he  was  fit  to  make 
’em  ache  again : ‘ Look  out  for  being  slighted  and 
oppressed,  John,  for  if  ever  a man  had  a hard  master 
you  shall  find  me  from  this  present  time  to  be  such  to 
you.’  And  then  he  began  !”  cried  Mrs.  Boffin,  in  an 
ecstacy  of  admiration.  " Lord  bless  you,  then  he  began  1 
And  how  he  did  begin  ; didn’t  he  I” 

Bella  looked  half  frightened,  and  yet  half  laughed. 

" But,  bless  you,”  pursued  Mrs.  Boffin,  "if  you  could 
have  seen  him  of  a night,  at  that  time  of  it  I The  way 


220 


dtm  MUTtJAL  FElEjfO. 


he’d  sit  and  chuckle  oter  himself  I The  way  he’d  say 
‘ I’ve  been  a regular  brown  bear  to-day,’  and  take  himself 
in  bis  arms  and  hug  himself  at  the  thoughts  of  the  brute 
he  had  pretended ! But  erery  night  he  says  to  me  s 
‘^Better  and  better,  old  lady.  What  did  we  say  of  her  ? 
Shell  come  through  It,  the  true  golden  gold*  This’ll  be 
the  happiest  piece  of  work  We  ever  done.^  And  then  he’d 
say,  ‘ I’ll  be  a grizzlier  old  growler  to^morrovv^ !’  and 
laugh,  he  would,  till  John  and  me  was  often  forced  to 
slap  his  back,  and  bring  it  out  of  his  windpipes  with  a 
little  water.” 

Mr.  Boffin,  with  his  face  bent  o?er  his  heary  handj 
made  no  sound,  but  rolled  his  shoulders  when  thus’  re^ 
ferred  to  as  if  he  were  vastly  enjoying  himself* 

And  so,  my  good  and  pretty,’^  pursued  Mrs.  Boffin, 
“ you  Was  married,  and  there  Was  we  hid  up  in  the  church- 
organ  by  this  husband  of  yours  ; for  he  wouldnT  let  us 
out  with  it  then,  as  was  first  meant*  * No,^  he  says,  ^ she’s 
so  unselfish  and  contented  that  I can’t  afford  to  be  rich 
yet.  I must  wait  a little  longer.’  Then,  when  baby  was 
expected,  he  says,  * she  is  such  a cheerful,  glorious  house* 
wife  that  I can’t  afford  to  be  rich  yet.  I must  wait  a 
little  longer.’  Then,  when  baby  was  born,  he  says, 
^ She  is  so  much  better  than  she  ever  was  that  I can’t 
afford  to  be  rich  yet.  I must  wait  a little  longer*^ 
And  so  he  ^oes  on  and  on,  till  I says  outright, 
‘ Now,  John,  if  you  don’t  fix  a time  for  setting  her 
up  in  her  own  house  and  home,  and  letting  us  walk  out 
of  it,  I’ll  turn  Informer.’  Then  he  says  he’ll  only  wait  to 
triumph  beyond  what  we  ever  thought  possible,  and  to 
show’  her  to  us  better  than  even  we  ever  supposed  ; and 
he  says,  * She  shall  see  me  ynder  suspicion  of  having  mur* 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


221 


dered  myself,'  and  you  sLall  see  how  trusting  and  how  true 
she’ll  be.’  Well ! Noddy  and  me  agreed  to  that,  and  he 
was  right,  and  here  you  are,  and  the  horses  is  in,  and  the 
story  is  done,  and  God  bless  you  my  Beauty,  and  God 
bless  us  all !” 

The  pile  of  hands  dispersed,  and  Bella  and  Mrs. 
Boffin  took  a good  long  hug  of  one  another : to  the 
apparent  peril  of  the  inexhaustible  baby,  lying  staring 
in  Bella’s  lap. 

But  is  the  story  done  ?*’  said  Bella,  pondering. 
‘‘Is  there  no  more  of  it  ?” 

* “What  more  of  it  should  there  be,  deary?”  returned 
Mrs.  Boffin,  full  of  glee. 

“ Are  you  sure  you  have  left  nothing  out  of  it?” 
asked  Bella. 

“ I don’t  think  I have,”  said  Mrs.  Boffin,  archly. 

“ John  dear,”  said  Bella,  “ y^ou’re  a good  nurse; 
will  you  please  hold  baby  ?”  Having  deposited  the 
Inexhaustible  in  his  arms  with  those  w^ords,  Bella 
looked  hard  at  Mr.  Boffin,  who  had  moved  to  a table 
where  he  was  leaning  his  head  upon  his  hand  with  his 
face  turned  away,  and,  quietly  settling  herself  on  her 
knees  at  his  side,  and  drawing  one  arm  over  his  shoul- 
der, said  : “ Please,  I beg  your  pardon,  and  I made  a 
small  mistake  of  a word  when  I took  leave  of  you 
last.  Please,  I think  you  are  better  (not  worse)  than 
Hopkins,  better  (not  worse)  than  Dancer,  better  (not 
worse)  than  Blackberry  Jones,  better  (not  worse) 
than  any  of  them  ! Please  something  more  I”  cried 
Bella,  with  an  exultant  ringing  laugh  as  she  strug- 
gled with  him  and  forced  him  to  turn  his  delighted 
face  to  hers.  “ Please  I have  found  out  something 


222 


OUK  OTTUAL  FRIEND. 


not  yet  mentioned.  Please  I don’t  believe  you  are  a 
hard-hearted  miser  at  all,  and  please  I don’t  believe 
you  ever  for  one  single  minute  were  !” 

At  this  Mrs.  Boffin  fairly  screamed  with  rapture, 
and  sat  beating  her  feet  upon  the  floor,  clapping  her 
hands,  and  bobbing  herself  backward  and  forward 
like  a demented  member  of  some  Mandarin’s  family. 

0,  I understand  you  now,  Sir  !”  cried  Bella.  I 
want  neither  you  nor  any  one  else  to  tell  me  the  rest 
of  the  story.  I can  tell  it  to  you  now,  if  you  would 
like  to  hear  it.” 

Can  you,  my  dear  ?”  said  Mr.  Boffin.  Tell  it 
then.” 

What  ?”  cried  Bella,  holding  him  prisoner  by  the 
coat  with  both  hands.  When  you  saw  what  a greedy 
little  wretch  you  were  the  patron  of,  you  determined 
to  show  her  how  much  misused  and  misprized  riches 
could  do,  and  often  had  done,  to  spoil  people  ; did 
you?  Not  caring  what  she  thought  of  you  (and 
Goodness  kno\vs  that  was  of  no  consequence  !)  you 
showed  her,  in  yourself,  the  most  detestable  sides  of 
wealth,  saying  in  your  own  mind,  ‘ This  shallow  crea- 
ture would  never  wmrk  the  truth  out  of  her  own  w^eak 
soul,  if  she  had  a hundred  years  to  do  it  in  ; but  a 
glaring  instance  kept  before  her  may  open  even  her 
ejes  and  set  her  thinking.’  That  w^as  what  you  said 
to  yourself ; was  it,  Sir  ?” 

“ I never  said  any  thing  of  the  sort,”  Mr.  Boffin  de- 
clared, in  a state  of  the  highest  enjoyment. 

Then  you  ought  to  have  said  it,  Sir,”  returned 
Bella,  giving  him  two  pulls  and  one  kiss,  for  you 
must  have  thought  and  meant  it.  You  saw  that  good 


OUH  HUTUAI.  FRIEND. 


223 


fortune  was  turning  iny  stupid  liead  and  hardening 
niy  silly  heart — was  making  me  grasping,  calculating, 
insolent,  insufferable — and  you  took  the  pains  to  be 
the  dearest  and  kindest  finger.post  that  ever  was  set 
up  any  Avhere,  pointing  out  the  road  that  I was  taking 
and  the  end  it  led  to.  Confess  instantl}^  !’^ 

John, said  Mr.  Boffin,  one  broad  piece  of  sunshine 
from  head  to  foot,  “ I wish  you’d  help  me  out  of  this.’’ 
You  can’t  be  heard  by,  counsel,  Sir,”  returned 
Bella.  “ You  must  speak  for  yourself.  Confess  in- 
stantly !” 

Yv^ell,  my  dear,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  the  truth  is, 
that  wiien  we  did  go  in  for  the  little  scheme  that  my 
old  lady  has  pinted  out,  I did  put  it  to  John,  what  did 
he  think  of  going'  in  for  some  such  general  scheme  as 
yow  have  pinted  out?  But  I ’didn’t  in  anyway  so 
word  it,  because  I didn’t  in  any  way  so  mean  it.  I 
only  said  to  Jyhn,  wouldn’t  it  be  more  consistent,  me 
going  in  for  being  a reg’lar  brown  bear  respecting 
him,  to  go  in  as  a reg’lar  brown  bear  all  round  ?” 

‘‘  Confess  this  minute,  Sir,”  said  Bella,  ‘‘  that  you 
did  it  to  correct  and  amend  me  !” 

^‘Certainly,  my  dear  child,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  “I 
didn’t  do  it  to  harm  you  ; you  may  be  sure  of  that. 
And  I did  hope  it  might  just  hint  a caution.  Still,  it 
ought  to  be  mentioned  that  no  sooner  ho,d  my  old  lady 
found  out  John,  than  John  made  known  to  her  and  me 
that  he  had  had  his  eye  upon  a thankless  person  by 
the  name  of  Silas  Wegg.  Partly  for  the  punishment 
of  which  Wegg,  by  leading  him  on  in  a very  unhand- 
some and  underhanded  game  that  he  was  playing,  them 
books  that  you  and  me  bought  so  many  of  together 


224 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


(and,  by-the-by,  my  dear,  he  wasu^t  Blackbery  Jones, 
but  Blewbcrry)  was  read  aloud  to  me  by  that  person 
of  the  name  of  Silas /VVegg  aforesaid.^’ 

Bella,  who  was  still  her  knees  at  Mr.  Boffin^s 
feet,  gradually  sank  down  into  a sitting  posture  on 
the  ground,  as  she  meditated  more  and  more  thought- 
fully, with  her  eyes  upon  his  beaming  face. 

Still,’^  said  Bella,  after  this  meditative  pause, 
“ there  remain  two  things  that  I can  not  understand. 
Mrs.  Boffin  never  supposed  any  part  of  the  change  in 
Mr.  Boffin  to  be  real ; did  she  ? — You  never  did ; did 
you  asked  Bella,  turning  to  her. 

“ No  returned  Mrs.  Boffin,  with  a most  rotund 
and  glowing  negative.  - • 

‘'And  yet  you  took  it  very  much  to  heart,^V  said 
Bella,  “I  remember  its  making  you  very  uneasy 
indeed.’’ 

“ Ecod,  you  see  Mrs.  John  lias  a,  sharp  eye,  John  1” 
cried  Mr.  Boffin,  shaking  his  head  with  an  admiring  air. 
“ Y’ou’re  right,  my  dear.  The  old  lady  nearly  blowed  us 
into  shivers  and  smithers,  many  times.’’ 

“ Why  ?”  asked  Bella.  How  did  that  happen,  when 
she  was  in  your  secret  ?” 

“ Why,  it  was  a weakness  in  the  old  lady,”  said  Mr. 
Boffin  ; “ and  yet,  to  tell  you  the  whole  truth  and  nothing 
but  the  truth,  I’m  rather  proud  of  it.  My  dear,  the  old 
lady  thinks  so  high  of  me  that  she  couldn’t  abcar  to 
see  and  hear  me  coming  out  as  a reg’lar  brown  one. 
Couldn’t  abear  to  make-believe  as  I meant  it  I In  oon- 
sequence  of  which  we  was  everlastingly  in  danger  with 
her.” 

Mrs.  Boffin  laughed  heartily  at  herself ; but  a certain 


OUR  MUTUAL  URIENI). 


m 


glistening  in'  her  honest  eyes  revealed  that  she  was  by  no 
means  cured  of  that  dangerous  propensity. 

I assure  you,  my  dear,^’  said  Mr.  Boffin,  that  on  the 
celebrated  day  when  I made  what  has  since  been  agreed 
Upon  to  be  my  grandest  demonstration— I allude  to  Mew 
says  the  cat,  Quack  quack  says  the  duck,  and  Bow-wow- 
wow  says  the  dog — I assure  you,  my  dear,  that  on  that 
celebrated  day,  them  flinty  and  unbelieving  words  hit  my 
old  lady  so  hard  on  my  account,  that  I had  to  hold  her, 
to  prevent  her  running  out  after  you,  and  defending  me 
by  saying  I was  playing  a partf^ 

Mrs.  Boffin  laughed  heartily  again,  and  her  eyes  glis* 
tened  again,  and  it  then  appeared,  not  only  that  in  that 
burst  of  sarcastic  eloquence  Mr.  Boffin  was  considered  by 
his  two  fellow-conspirators  to  have  outdone  himself,  but 
that  in  his  own  opinion  it  was  a remarkable  achievement* 
Never  thought  of  it  afore  the  moment,  my  dear  !’’  he 
observed  to  Bella.  “ When  John  said,  if  he  had  been  so 
happy  as  to  win  your  affections  and  possess  your  heart,  it 
come  into  my  head  to  turn  round  upon  him  with  * Win 
her  affections  and  possess  her  heart  ! Mew  says  the  cat, 
Quack  quack  says  the  duck,  and  Bow-wow-wow  says  the 
dog.^  r couldn’t  tell  you  how  it  come  into  my  head  or 
where  from,  but  it  had  so  much  the  sound  of  a rasper 
that  I own  to  you  it  astonished  myself.  I was  awful  nigh 
bursting  out  a laughing  though,  wdien  it  made  John 
stare  !” 

“ You  said,  my  pretty,^’  Mrs.  Boffin  reminded  Bella, 
“ that  there  was  one  other  thing  you  couldn’t  under- 
stand.” 

“ O yes  !”  cried  Bella,  covering  her  face  with  her 
hands,  “ but  that  I never  shall  be  able  to  understand  as 


226 


OUR  }.fUTUAI.  FRIEND. 


long  as  I live.  It  is,  how  John  could  love  me  so  when  I 
so  little  deserved  it,  and  how  you,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin, 
could  be  so  forgetful  of  yourselves,  and  take  such  pains 
and  trouble,  to  make  me  a little  better,  and  after  all  to 
help  him  to  so  unworthy  a wife.  But  I am  very,  very 
grateful  d’ 

It  was  John  Harmon’s  turn  then — John  Harmon  now 
for  good,  and  John  Kokesmith  for  nevermore^ — to  plead 
with  her  (^quite  unnecessarily)  in  behalf  of  his  deception, 
and  to  tell  her,  over  and  over  again,  that  it  had  been  pro- 
longed by  her  own  winning  graces  in  her  supposed  station 
of  life.  This  led  on  to  many  interchanges  of  endearment 
and  enjoyment  on  all  sides,  in  the  midst  of  which  the 
Inexhaustible  being  observed  staring,  in  a most  imbecile 
m-anner^on  Mrs.  Boffin’s  breast,  was  pronounced  to  be 
supernatural ly  intelligent  as  to  the  whole  transaction,  and 
was  made  to  declare  to  the  ladies  and  gemplemorums, 
with  a wave  of  the  speckled  fist  (with  difficulty  detached 
from  an  exceedingly  short  waist),  “ I have  already  in. 
formed  my  venerable  Ma  that  I know  all  about  it  I” 

Then,  said  John  Harmon,  would  Mrs.  Harmon  come 
and  see  lier  house  ? And  a dainty  house  it  was,  and  a 
tastefully  beautiful  ; and  they  went  through  it  in  proceti- 
sion  ; the  Inexhaustible  on  Mrs.  Boffin’s  bosom  (still 
staring)  occupying  the  middle  station,  and  Mr.  Boffin 
bringing  up  the  rear.  And  on  Bella’s  exquisite  toilet- 
table  was  an  ivory  casket,  and  in  the  casket  were  jewels 
the  like  of  which  she  had  never  dreamed  of,  and  aloft  on 
an  upper  floor  was  a nursery  garnished  as  with  rainbows  ; 

though  we  were  hard  put  to  it,”  said  John  Harmon, 
“ to  get  it  done  in  so  short  a time.” 

The  house  inspected,  emissaries  removed  the  Inex- 


OUil  MUTUAL  FSIEND, 


227 


haiistible,  who  was  sliortly  afterward  heard  screaming 
among  the  rainbows  ; whereupon  Bella  withdrew  herself 
from  tlie  presence  and  knowledge  of  gemplemorums,  and 
the  screaming  ceased,  and  smiling  Peace  associated  her- 
self with  that  3"oung  olive  branch. 

‘‘  Come  and  look  in,  Noddy  !’’  said  Mrs.  Boffin  to  Mr. 
Boffin. 

Mr.  Boffin,  submitting  to  be  led  on  tip-toe  to  the  nur- 
sery door,  looked  in  with  immense  satisfaction,  although 
there  was  uotliing  to  see  but  Bella  i)^a  musing  state  of 
happiness,  seated  in  a little  low  chair  upon  the  hearth, 
with  her  cliild  in  her  fair  young  arms,  and  her  soft  ^eye- 
lashes shading  her  eyes  from  the  fire. 

‘‘  It  looks  as  if  the  old  maids  spirit  had  found  rest  at 
last ; doidt  it  said  Mrs.  Boffin. 

Yes,  old  lady.*’ 

“ And  as  if  his  money  had  turned  bright  again,  after  a 
long  long  rust  in  the  dark,  and  was  at  last  a beginning  to 
sparkle  in  the  sunlight 

Yes,  o\d\dyJ^ 

''  And  it  makes  a pretty  and  a promising  picter  ; 
doidt  it 

Yes,  old  lady.” 

But,  aware  at  the  instant  of  a fine  opening  for  a point, 
Mr.  Boffin  quenched  that  observation  iu  this — delivered 
in  the  grizzliest  growling  of  the  regular  brown  bear. 

A pretty  and  a hopeful  picter  ? Mew,  Quack  quack, 
Bow-wow  I”  And  then  trotted  silently  down  stairs,  with 
his  shoulders  iu  a state  of  the  liveliest  commotion. 


22S 


OUS  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

CHECKMATE  TO  THE  FRIENDLY  MOVE. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  J#hn  Harmon  liad  so  timed  their  taking 
possession  of  their  rightful  name  and  their  London  house, 
that  the  event  befell  on  the  very  day  wlieii  the  last  wagon 
load  of  the  last  Moftnd  was  driven  out  at  the  gates  of 
Boffin^s  Bower.  As  it  jolted  away  Mr.  Wegg’^felt  that 
the  last  load  was  correspondingly  removed  from  his  mind, 
and  hailed  the  auspicious  season  wheh  that  black  sheep, 
Boffin,  was  to  be  closely  sheared. 

Over  the  whole  slow  process  of  leveling  the  Mounds 
Silas  had  kept  watch  with  rapacious  eyes.  But  eyes  no 
less  rapacious  iutd  watched  the  growth  of  the  Mounds  in 
years  by-gone,  and  had  vigilantly  sifted  the  dust  of  which 
they  were  composed.  Xo  valuables  turned  up.  How 
should  there  be  any,  seeing  that  the  old  hard  jailer  of^ 
Harmony  Jail  had  coined  every  waif  and  stray  into  money 
. long  before  ? 

Though  disappointed  by  this  bare  result,  Mr.  Wegg 
felt  too  sensibly  relieved  by  the  close  of  the  labor  to 
grumble  to  any  great  extent.  A foreman  representative 
of  the  dust  contractors,  purchasers  of  the  Mounds,  had 
worn  Mr.  Wegg  down  to  skin  and  bone.  This  super- 
visor of  the  proceedings,  asserting  his  employers’  rights  to 
cart  olf  by  daylight,  nightlight,  torchlight,  when  they 


OUR  MUTUAL  URtEND. 


229 


would,  must  have  been  the  death  of  Silas  if  the  work  had 
lasted  much  longer.  Seeming  never  to  need  sleep  himself, 
he  would  reappear,  with  a tied-up  broken  head,  in  fantail 
hat  and  velveteen  smalls,  like  an  aqcursed  goblin,  at  the 
most  unholy  and  untimely  hours.  Tired  out  by  keeping 
close  ward  over  a long  day’s  work  in  fog  and  rain,  Silas 
would  have  just  crawled  to  bed  and  be  dozing,  when  a 
horrid  shake  and  rumble  under  his  pillow  would  announce 
an  approaching  train  of  carts,  escorted  by  this  Demon  of 
Unrest,  to  fall  to  work  again.  At, another  time,  he 
would  be  rumbled  up  out  of  his  soundest  sleep,  in  the 
dead  of  the  night ; at  another,  would  be  kept  at  his  post 
eight-and“forty  hours  on  end.  The  more  his  persecutor 
besought  liim  not  to  trouble  himself  to  turn  out,  the  more 
suspicious  was  the  crafty  Wegg  that  indications  had  been 
observed  of  something  hidden  somewhere,  and  that 
attempts  were  on  foot  to  circumvent  him.  So  continually 
broken  was  his  rest  through  these  means,  that  he  led  the 
life  of  having  wagered  to  keep  ten  thousand  dog-watches 
in  ten  thousand  hours,  and  looked  piteously  upon  himself 
as  aiways  getting  up  and  yet  never  going  to  bed.  So 
gaunt  and  haggard  had  he  grown  at  last,  that  his  wooden 
Jeg  showed  disproportionate,  and  presented  a thriving 
appearance  in  contrast  with  the  rest  of  his  plagued  bocjy, 
which  might  almost  have  been  termed  chubby. 

However,  Wegg’s  comfort  was,  that  all  his  disagree- 
ables were  now  over,  and  that  he  was  immediately  com- 
ing into  his  property.  Of  late,  the  grindstone  did 
undoubtedly  appear  to  have  been  whirling  at  his  own 
nose  rather  than  Boffin’s,  bu£p  Boffin’s  nose  wnis  now  to  be 
sharpened  fine.  Thus  far  Mr.  Wegg  had  let  his  dusty 
friend  off  lightly,  having  been  baulked  in  that  amiable 


230 


OUfi’^rUTUAL  FKIEND* 


design  of  frequently  dining  with  him,  by  the  machina* 
tions  of  the  sleepless  dustman.  He  had  been  constrained 
to  depute  Mr.  Yeniis^to  keep  their  dusty  friend,  Boffin, 
under  inspection,  while  he  himself  turned  lank  and  lean 
at  the  Bower* 

To  Mr.  Venus^s  museum  Mr.  Wegg  repaired  when  at 
length  the  Mounds  v/ere  down  and  gone.  It  being 
evening,  he  found  that  gentleman,  as  he  expected,  seated 
over  his  fire  ; but  did  not  find  him,  as  he  expected,  float- 
ing his  powerful  mind  in  tea* 

“ Why,  you  smell  rather  comfortable  here  !”  said 
Wegg,  seeming  to  take  it  ill,  and  stopping  and  sniffing 
he  entered. 

''1  am  rather  comfortable,  Sir,’’  said  Venus. 

You  don’t  use  lemon  in  your  business,  do  you  ?”  asked 
Wegg,  sniffing  again. 

''No,  Mr.  Vv^egg,”  said  Venus.  "When  I use  it  at 
all,  I mostly  use  it  in  cobblers’  punch.” 

" Vfhat  do  you  call  cobblers’  punch?”  demanded  Wegg, 
in  a worse  humor  than  before. 

" It’s  difficult  to  impart  the  receipt  for  it,  Sir,”  returned 
Venus,  " because,  however  particular  you  may  be  in  allot- 
ting your  materials,  so  much  will  still  depend  upon  the 
iq,diviclual  gifts,  and  there  being  a feeling  thrown  into  it. 
But  the  ground-work  is  gin.” 

" In  a Dutch  bottle  ?”  said  Wegg,  gloomily,  as  he  sat 
himself  down. 

" Very  good,  Sir,  very  good  !”  cried  Venus.  " Yiill 
you  partake.  Sir  ?” 

" Will*  I partake  ?”  returned  Wegg  very  surlily. 

Why,  of  course  I will.  ^Vill  a man  partake,  as  has 
been  tormented  out  of  his  five  senses  by  an  everlasting 


OUR  mutuaI.  friend. 


231 


dustman  with  his  head  tied  up  I Will  he,  too  ! As  If 
he  wouldn’t 

“Don’t  let  it  put  you  out,  Mr.  Wegg.  You  don’t 
seem  in  your  usual  spirits.” 

“ If  you  come  to  that,  you  don’t  seem  in  your  usual 
spirits,”  growled  Wegg.  “You  seem  to  be  setting  up 
for  lively.” 

This  circumstance  appeared,  in  his  then  state  of  mind, 
to  give  Mr.  Wegg  uncommon  offense. 

“ And  you’ve  been  having  your  hair  cut  !”  said  Wegg, 
missing  the  usual  dusty  shock. 

“Yes,  Mr.  Wegg.  But  don’t  let  that  put  you  out, 
either.” 

“ And  I am  blest  if  you  ain’t  getting  fat  !”  said  Wegg, 
with  culminating  discontent.  “What  are  you  going  to 
do  next  ?” 

“ Well,  Mr.  Wegg,”  said  Venus,  smiling  in  a sprightly 
manner,  “ I suspect  you  could  hardly  guess  what  I am 
going  to  do  next  ?” 

“1  don’t  want  to  guess,  retorted  Wegg.  “ All  I have 
got  to  say  is,  that  it’s  well  for  you  that  the  diwision  of 
labor  has  been  what  it  has  been.  It’s  well  for  you  to 
have  had  so  light  a part  in  this  business,  when  mine  has 
been  so  heavy.  You  haven’t  had  your  rest  broke.  I’ll  be 
bound.” 

“ Yot  at  all.  Sir,”  said  Venus.  “ Never  rested  so  well 
in  all  my  life,  I thank  you.” 

“ Ah  !”  grumbled  Wegg,  “}^ou  should  have  been  me. 
If  you  had  been  me,  and  had  been  fretted  out  of  your 
bed,  and  your  sleep,  and  your  meals,  and  your  mind,  for 
a stretch  of  months  together,  yovJd  have  been  out  of  com 
ditiou  and  out  of  sorts.” 


232 


OUK  MUTtJAL  FRIEND. 


**  Certainly,  it  has  trained  you  down,  Mr.  Wegg,”  said 
Venus,  contemplating  his  figure  with  an  artist’s  eye. 

Trained  }^ou  down  very  low,  it  has  ! So  weazen  and 
yellow  is  the  kivering  upon  your  bones,  that  one  might 
almost  fancy  you  had  come  to  give  a look-in  upon  the 
French  gentleman  in  the  corner,  instead  of  me.” 

Mr.  Wegg,  glancing  in  great  dudgeon  toward  tho 
French  gentleman’s  corner,  seemed  to  notice  something 
new  there,  which  induced  him  to  glance  at  tbs  opposite 
corner,  and  then  to  put  on  his  glasses  and  stare  at  all  the 
nooks  and  corners  of  the  dim  shop  in  succession. 

Why,  you’ve  been  having  the  place  cleaned  up  I”  he 
exclaimed. 

Yes,  Mr.  Wegg.  By  the  hand  of  adorable  woman.” 
Then  what  you’re  going  to  do  next,  I suppose,  is  to 
get  married 

That’s  it,  Sir.” 

Silas  took  off  his  glasses  again — finding  himself  too 
intensely  disgusted  by  the  sprightly  appearance  of  his 
friend  and  partner  to  bear  a magnified  view  of  him — and 
made  the  inquiry  : 

''  To  the  old  party  ?” 

^'Mr.  Wegg  !”  said  Venus,  with  a sudden  flush  of 
wrath.  Tlie  lady  in  question  is  not  a old  party.” 

I meant,”  explained  Wegg,  testily,  to  the  jiarty  as 
formerly  objected  ?’ 

‘'Mr.  Wegg,”  said  Venus, ‘'in  a case  of  so  much 
delicacy,  must  1 trouble  you  to  say  what  you  mean. 
There  are  strings  that  must  not  be  played  upon.  No  Sir  ! 
Not  sounded,  unless  in  the  most  respectful  and  tuneful 
manner.  Of  such  melodious  strings  is  Miss  Pleasant 
Riderhood  formed.” 


OUK  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


233 


Then  it  u the  lady  as  formerly  objected  said 
Wegg. 

Slr/^  returned  Yenus  with  dignity,  I accept  the 
altered  phrase.  It  is  the  lady  as  formeriy  objected.’^ 
When  is  it  to  come  off  asked  Silas. 

'‘Mr.  Wegg,’^  said  Yenus,  with  another  flush.  “I 
can  not  permit  it  to  be  put  in  the  form  of  a Fight.  I 
must  temperately  but  firmly  call  upon  you.  Sir,  to  amend 
that  question.^^ 

“ When  is  the  lady/^  Wegg  reluctantly  demanded,  con- 
straining his  ill-temper  in  remembrance  of  the  partnership 
and  its  stock  in  trade,  “ agoing  to  give  her  ’and  where 
she  has  already  given  her  ’art 

“Sir,”  returned  Yenus,  “I  again  accept  the  altered 
phrase,  and  with  pleasure.  The  lady  is  agoing  to  give 
her  ’and  where  she  has  already  given  her  ’art  next  Mon- 
day.” 

“ Then  the  lady’s  objection  has  been  met  ?”  said  Silas. 

“ Mr.  Y^egg,”  skid  Yenus,  “ as  I did  name  to  you,  I 
think,  on  a former  occasion,  if  not  on  former  occa- 
sions— ” 

“ On  former  occasions,”  interrupted  \Yegg. 

“ — What,”  pursued  Yenus,  “ what  the  nature  of  the 
lady’s  objection  was,  I may  impart,  without  violating  any 
of  the  tender  confidences  since  sprung  up  between  the 
lady  and  myself,  how  it  has  been  met,  through  the  kind 
interference  of  two  good  friends  of  mine  : one,  previously 
acquainted  with  the  lady  : and  one,  not.  The  pint  was 
thrown  out,  Sir,  by  those  two  friends  when  they  did  me 
the  great  service  of  waiting  on  the  lady  to  try  if  a union 
betwixt  the  lady  and  me  could  not  be  brought  to  bear — 
the  pint,  I say,  was  thrown  out  by  them,  Sir,  whether  if, 


231 


OVB,  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


nfter  mnrriage,  I confined  myself  to  the  articulation  of 
men,  children,  and  the  lower  animals,  it  might  not  relieve 
the  lady’s  mind  of  her  feeling  respecting  being — as  a lad;/ 
• — regarded  in  a bony  light.  It  was  a happy  thought, 
Sir,  and  it  took  root.” 

‘‘It  would  seem,  Mr,  Venus,”  observed  Wegg,  with  a 
touch  of  distrust,  “ that  you  are  flush  of  frieqds 

“ Pretty  well,  Sir,”  that  gentleman  answered,  in  a tone 
of  placid  mystery.  “ So-so,  Sir.  Pretty  well.” 

“ However,”  said  Wegg,  after  eyeing  him  with  another 
touch  of  distrust,  “I  wish  you  joy.  One  man  spends  his 
fortune  in  one  way,  and  another  in  another.  You  arc 
going  to  try  matrimony.  I mean  to  try  traveling.” 
Indeed,  Mr.  Wegg  ?” 

“ Change  of  air,  sea-scenery,  and  my  natural  rest,  I 
hope  may  bring  me  round  after  the  persecutions  I have 
undergone  from  the  dustman  with  his  head  tied  up,  which 
I just  now  mentioned.  The  tough  job  being  ended  and 
the  mounds  laid  low,  the  hour  is  corns' for  Boffin  to  stump 
up.  Would  ten  to  morrow  morning  suit  yon,  partner,  for 
finally  bringing  Boffin’s  nose  to  the  grindstone  ?” 

Ten  to-morrow  morning  would  quite  suit  Mr.  Venus 
for  that  excellent  purpose. 

“ You  have  had  him  well  under  ins|>ection,  I hope  ?” 
said  Silas. 

Mr.  Venus  had  had  him  under  inspection  pretty  well 
every  day. 

“ Suppose  you  was  just  to  step  round  to-night  thou, 
and  give  him  orders  from  me — I say  from  me,  because  lie 
Icnows  1 won’t  be  played  with — to  be  ready  with  his 
papers,  liis  accounts,  and  his  cash,  at  that  time  in  the 
morning  said  Wegg.  “ And  as  a matter  of  form,  which 


t 


OTTR  MUTUAL  FKlEND.  235 

will  be  ngreeablc  to  your  own  feelings,  before  \ve  go  out 
(for  I’ll  walk  with  you  part  of  the  way,  though  my  leg 
gives  under  me  with  weariness),  let’s  have  a look  at  .the 
stock  in  trade.” 

Mr.  Yenus  produced  it,  and  it  was  perfectly  correct  ; 
Mr.  Yenus  undertook  to  produce  it  again  in  the  morning, 
and  to  keep  tryst  with  Mr.  Wegg  on  Boffin’s  doorstep  as 
•.he  clock  struck  ten.  At  .a  certain  point  of  the  road  be- 
.ween  Clerkenwell  and  Boffin’s  house  (Mr.  Wegg  ex- 
pressly insisted  that  there  should  be  no  prefix  to  the 
Golden  Buslman’s  name)  the  partners  separated  for  the 
niglft. 

It  was  a very  bad  night ; to  which  succeeded  a very 
bad  morning.  The  streets  were  so  unusually  slushy, 
muddy,  and  miserable,  in  the  morning,  that  Y^egg  rode 
to  the  scene  of  action  ; arguing  that  a man  who  was,  as 
it  were,  going  to  the  Bank  to  draw  out  a handsome  pro- 
perty could  well  afford  that  trifling  expense. 

Yenus  was  punctual,  and  Wegg  undertook  to  knock 
at  the  door  and  conduct  the  conference.  Door  knocked 
at.  Door  opened. 

Boffin  at  home  ?” 

The  servant  replied  that  ilfr. -Boffin  was  at  home. 

He’ll  do,”  said  Wegg,  though  it  ain’t  what  I call 
him.” 

The  servant  inquired  if  they  had  any  appointment  ? 

Now  I%;11  you  what,  young  fellow,”  said  Wegg,  “I 
won’t  liavG  it.  This  won’t  do  for  me.  I don’t  want 
menials.  I want  Boffin.” 

^iiey  were  shown  into  a waiting-room,  where  the  all- 
powerful  Wegg  wore  his  hat,  and  whistled,  and  with  his 
forefinger  stirred  up  a clock  ihat  stood  upon  the  chimney- 


286 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


piece  until  he  made  it  strike.  In  a few  minutes  they  were 
shown  up  stairs  into  what  used  to  be  Boffin^s  room  ; 
which,  besides  the  door  of  the  entrance,  had  folding-doors 
in  it,  to  make  it  one  of  a suit  of  rooms  when  occasion 
required..  Here  Boffin  was  seated  at  a library-table,  and 
here  Mr.  We-gg,  having  imperiously  motioned  the  servant 
to  withdraw,  drew  up  a chair  and  seated  himself,  in  his 
hat,  close  beside  him.  Here  also  Mr.  Wegg  instantly 
underwent  the  remarkable  experience  of  having  hi^  hat 
twitched  off  his  head  and  thrown  out  of  a window,  which 
was  opened  and  shut  for  the  purpose. 

“ Be  careful  what  insolent  liberties  you  take  in  that 
gentlemaffs  presence,^’  said  the  owner  of  the  hand  which 
had  done  this,  or  I will  throw  you  after  it.^’ 

Wegg  involuntarily  clapped  his  hand  to  his  bare  head, 
and  stared  at  the  Secretary.  For  it  was  he  addressed 
him  with  a severe  countenance,  and  who  had  come  in 
quietly  by  the  folding-doors. 

Oh  said  Wegg,  as  soon  as  he  recovered  his  sus- 
pended power  of  speech.  Very  good  ! I gave  direc- 
tions, for  you  to  be  dismissed.  And  you  ain’t  gone,  ain’t 
you  ? Oh  ! We’ll  look  into  this  presently.  Very 
good  !” 

No,  nor  I ain’t  gone,”  said  another  voice. 

Somebody  else  had  come  in  quietly  by  the  folding- 
doors.  Turning  his  head,  Wegg  beheld  his  persecutor, 
the  ever-wakeful  dustman,  accoutred  with  fa;l!tail  hat  and 
velveteen  smalls  complete.  Who,  untying  his  tied-up 
broken  head,  revealed  a head  that  was  whole  and  a face 
that  was  Sloppy’s.  ^ 

Ha,  ha,  ha,  gentlemen  !”  roared  Sloppy,  in  a peal 
of  laughter^  and  with  immeasurable  relish.  He  never 


OVn  MtTTUAL  I'RIEKD* 


23'7 


thought  as  I could  sleep  standing,  and  often  done  it 
when  1 turned  for  Mrs.  Higden  1 He  never  thought 
as  I used  to  give  Mrs.  Higden  the  Police*news  in  dif- 
ferent voices  ! But  I did  lead  him  a life  all  through 
it,  gentlemen,  I hope  I- really  and  truly  did  !”  Here 
Mr.  Sloppy  opening  his  mouth  to  a quite  alarming  ex- 
tent, and  throwing  back  his  head  to  peal  again,  re- 
vealed again  incalculable  buttgns. 

Oh  P’  said  Wcgg,  slightly  discomfitted,  but  not  much 
as  yet : “ one  aud  one  is  two  not  dismissed,  is  it  ? Bof- 
fin ! Just  let  me  ask  a question*  Who  set  this  chap  on, 
in  this  dress,  when  the  carting  began  ? Who  employed 
this  fellow  ?■’ 

I say,^^  remonstrated  Sloppy,  jerking  his  head  forward. 
‘^No  fellows,  or  J^ll  throw  you  out  the  winder 

Mr.  BofiSn  appeased  him  with  a wave  of  his  hand,  and 
said  t I employed  him,  Wegg.’’ 

“Oh  ! You  employed  him.  Boffin?  Very  good.  Miv 
Venus,  we  raise  our  terms,  and  we  can^t  do  better  than 
proceed  to  business.  Bof — fin  I 1 want  the  room  cleared 
of  these  two  scum 

“ That’s  not  going  to  be  done,  Wegg,”  replied  Mr. 
Boffin,  sitting  composedly  on  the  library-table,  at  one 
end,  while  the  Secretary  sat  composedly  on  it  at  the  other.. 

“ Bof— fin  ! Kot  going  to  be  done  repeated  Wegg. 
“ Not  at  your  peril 

“ No,  Wegg,”  said  Mr  Boffin,  shaking  his  head  good- 
humoredly.  “ Not  at  my  peril,  and  not  on  any  other 
terms.” 

Wegg  reflected  a moment,  and  then  said:  “Mr. 
Venus,  will  you  be  so  good  as  band  me  over  that  same 
dockyment  ?” 


238 


OtfR  MtJTtJAL 


‘‘  Certainly,  Sir,”  replied  Yenns,  handing  it  to  bin  witli 
much  politeness.  “ There  it  is.  Having  now,'  Sir,  parted 
with  it,  I wish  to  innke  a small  observation  f not  so 
mticli  beeanse  it  is  any  ways  necessary^  or  expresses  any 
new*  doctrine  or  discovery,  as  because  it  is  a comfort  to 
my  mind.  Silas  Wegg,  you  are  a precious  old  ras-^ 
cal  ?” 

Mr.  Wegg,  who,  as  if  anticipating  a compliment, 
had  been  beating  time  wdth  the  paper  to  the’  other’s 
politeness  amtil  this  unexpected  conclusion  came  upon 
him,  stopped  rather  abruptly. 

Silas  Wegg,”  said  Venus,  know  that  I took  the 
liberty’’  of  taking  Mr.  Boffin  into  our  concern,  as  a 
sleeping  partner,  at  a very  early  period  of  our  firm’s 
existence.” 

“ Quite  true,”  added  Mr.  Boffin  ; and  I tested 
Venus  by  making  him  a pretended  proposal  or  two; 
and  I found  him  on  the  whole  a very  honest  man, 
Wegg.” 

So  Mr.  Boffin,  in  his  indulgence,  is  pleased  to  say,” 
Venus  remarked  : though  in  the  beginning  of  this 

dirt  my  hands  were  not,  for  a few  hours,  quite  as  clean 
as  I could  wish.  But  I hope  I made  early  and  full 
amends.” 

“ Venus,  you  did,”  said  Mr.  Boffin.  Certainly, 
certainly,  certainly.” 

Venus  inclined  his  head  with  respect  and  gratitude. 
‘‘  Thank  you,  Sir.  I am  much  obliged  to  you.  Sir,  for 
all.  For  your  good  opinion  now,  for  your  way  of  re* 
ceiving  and  encouraging  me  when  I first  put  myself  in 
communication  with  you,  and  for  the  influence  since  so 
kindly  brought  to  bear  upon  a,  certain  lady,  both  by 


CtR  MUTtTAL  FieiEND* 


239 

♦ yourself  and  by  Mr.  John  Harman.’^  To  whom,  when 
thus  making  mention  of  him,  he  also  bowed. 

Yv^eg'g  followed  the  name  witli  shai-p  ears  and  the 
action  with  sharp  eyes,  and  a certain  cringing  air  was 
infusing  itself  into  his  bullying  air,  when  his  attention 
was  re-claimed  by  Yenus. 

Pi  very  thing  else  between  yoti  and  me,  Mr.  Wegg,” 
sairl  Yenus,  now  explains  itself,  and  you  can  now 
make  out,  Sir,  without  further  words  from  me.  But 
totally  to  prevent  any  unpleasantness  or  mistake  that 
might  arise  on  what  I consider  an  important  point,  to 
be  made  quite  clear  at  the  close  of  our  acquaintance, 
I beg  the  leave  of  Mr.  Boffin  and  Mr.  John  Harmon  to 
repeat  an  observation  which  I have  already  had  the 
pleasure  of  bringing  under  your  notice.  You  are  a 
precious  old  rascal 

You  are  a fool,”  said  Wegg,  wdth  a snap  of  his 
fingers,  “ and  I’d  have  got  rid  of  you  before  now,  if  I 
could  have  struck  out  any  way  of  doing  it.  rhave 
thought  it  over,  I can  tell  you.  You  may  go,  and  wel- 
come. You  leave  the  more  for  me.  Because,  you 
know,”  said  Wegg,  dividing  his  next  observation  be- 
tween Mr.  Boffin  and  Mr.  Harmon^  ''  I am  worth  my 
price,  and  I mean  to  have  it.  This  getting  off  is  all 
very  well  in  its  way,  and  it  tells  with  such  an  ana- 
tomical Pump  as  this  one,”  pointing  out  Mr.  Yenus, 
‘‘  but  it  won’t  do  wdth  a Man.  I am  here  to  be  bought 
off,  and  I diavc  named  my  figure.  Now,  buy  me,  or 
leave  me.” 

I’ll  leave  you,  \Yegg,”  said  Mr.  Boffin,  laughing, 
as  far  as  I am  concerned.” 

Bof — fin  1”  replied  Wegg,  turning  upon  him  with 


240 


OtJR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


a severe  air,  I understand  your  new-born  boldness. 
I see  the  brass  underneath  your  silver.  You  have  got 
your  nose  put  out  of  joint.  Knowing  that  you\"e  no 
thing  at  stake,  you  can  afford  to  come  the  independent 
game.  Wh}^,  you’re  just  so  much  smeary  glass  to  see 
through,  you  know  ! But  Mr.  Harmon  is  in  another 
sitiwation.  What  Mr.  Harmon  risks  is  quite  another 
pair  of  shoes.  Now,  Tve  heerd  something  lately  about 
this  being  Mr.  Harmon^ — I make  out  now  some  hints 
that  I’ve  met  on  that  subject  in  the  newspaper — and 
I drop  you,  Bof— fin,  as  beneath  my  notice.  I ask  Mr. 
Harmon  whether  he  has  any  idea  of  the  contents  of 
this  present  paper  V 

''  It  is  a will  cf  my  late  father’s,  of  more  recent  date 
than  the  will  proved  by  Mr.  Boffin  (address  whom 
again,  as  you  have  addressed  him  already,  and  I’ll 
knock  you  down),  leaving  the  whole  of  his  property 
to  tl^  Crown,”  said  John  Harmon,  with  as  much  in- 
difference as  was  compatible  with  extreme  stern- 
ness. 

''  Right  you  are  !”  cried  Wegg.  Then,”  screwing 
the  weight  of  his  body  upon  his  wooden  leg,  and 
screwing  his  wooden  head  very  much  on  one  side,  and 
screwing  up  one  eye  ; then,  I put  the  questioiu  to 
you,  what’s  this  paper  worth  ?” 

Nothing,”  said  John  Harmon. 

AVegg  had  repeated  the  word  with  a sneer,  and  was 
entering  on  some  sarcastic  retort,  when,  to  his  bound- 
less amazement,  he  found  himself  gripped  by  the 
cravat;  shaken  until  his  teeth  chattered;  shoved 
back,  staggering,  into  a corner  of  the  room  ; and 
pinned  there. 


OUK  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


241 


- You  scoundrel  !*’  said  John  Harmon,  whose  sea-faring 
iiold  was  like  that  of  a vice. 

You’re  knocking  my  head  against  the  wall,”  urged 
Silas,  faintly, 

I mean  to  knock  your  head  against  the  wall,”  re- 
turned John  Harmon,  suiting  his  action  to  his  words,  with 
the  heartiest  good-will  ; “ and  I’d  give  a thousand  pounds 
for  leave  to  knock  your  brains  out.  Listen,  you  scoun- 
drel, and  look  at  that  Dutch  bottle.” 

Sloppy  held  it  up,  for  his  edification, 

Thai  Dutch  bottle,  scoundrel,  contained  the  latest 
will  of  the  many  wills  made  by  my  unhappy  self-torment- 
ing father.  That  will  gives  every  thing  absolutely  to  my 
noble  benefactor  and  yours,  Mr.  Boffin,  excluding  and  re- 
viling me,  and  rny  sister  (then  already  dead  of  a broken 
heart),  by  name.  That  Dutch  bottle  was  found  by  my 
noble  benefactor  and  yours,  after  he  entered  on  possession 
of  the  estate.  That  Dutch  bottle  distressed  him  beyond 
measure,  because,  though  I and  my  sister  were  both  no 
more,  it  cast  a slur  upon  our  memory  which  he  knew  we 
had  done  nothing  in  our  miserable  youth  to  deserve. 
That  Dutch  bottle,  therefore,  he  buried  in  the  Mound 
belonging  to  him,  and  there  it  lay  while  you,  you  thank- 
less wretch,  were  prodding  and  poking — often  very  near 
it,  I dare  say.  His  intention  was,  that  it  should  never 
see  the  light ; but  he  was  afraid  to  destroy  it,  lest  to 
destroy  such  a document,  even  with  his  great  generous 
motive,  might  be  an  offense  at  law.  After  the  discovery 
was  made  liere  'who  I v/as,  Mr,  Boffin,  still  restless  on  the 
subject,  told  me,  upon  certain  conditions  impossible  for 
such  a honnd  as  you  to  appreciate,  the  secret  of  that 
Dutch  bottle.  I urged  upon  him  the  necessity  of  its  being 


242 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND, 


dug  up,  and  the  paper  being  legally  produced  and  estab- 
lished. The  first  thing  you  saw  liim  do,  and  the  second 
thing  has  been  done  without  your  knowledge.  Conse- 
quently, the  paper  now  rattling  in  your  hand  as  I shake 
you — and  I should  like  to  shake  the  life  out  of  you — is 
worth  less  than  the  rotten  cork  of  the  Dutch  bottle,  do 
you  understand 

Judging  from  the  fallen  countenance  of  Silas  as  his 
head  wagged  backward  and  forward  in  a most  uncomfort- 
able manner,  he  did  understand. 

JSTow,  scoundrel,”  said  John  Harmon,  taking  another 
sailor-like  turn  on  his  crayat  and  holding  him  in  his  cor- 
ner at  arm’s  length,  I shall  make  two  more  short 
•speeches  to  you,  because  I hope  they  will  torment  you. 
Your  discovery  was  a genuine  discovery  (such  as  it  was), 
for  nobody  had  thought  of  looking  into  that  place. 
Neither  did  we  know  you  had  made  it  until  Yenus  spoke 
to  Mr.  Boffin,  though  I kept  you  under  good  observation 
from  my  first  appearance  here,  and  though  Sloppy  has 
long  made  it  the  chief  occupation  and  delight  of  las  life 
to  attend  you  like  your  shadow.  I tell  you  this,  tliat  you 
may  know  we  knew  enough  of  you  to  persuade  Mr.  Boffin 
to  let  us  lead  you  on,  deluded,  to  the  last  possible  moment, 
in  order  that  your  disappointment  might  be  the  heaviest 
possible  disappointment.  That’s  the  first  short  speech, 
do  3'Ou  understand 

Here  John  Harmon  assisted  iiis  comprehension  with 
another  shake. 

“ Now,  scoundrel,”  he  pursued,  I am  going  to  finish. 
You  supposed  me  just  now  to  be  the  possessor  of  my 
father’s  property. — So  I am.  But  through  any  act  of  my 
father’s,  or  by  auy  right  I have  ? No.  Through  the 


Otrii  MPTtrAL  FfiiEirb. 


m 


irmnificence  of  Mr.  Boffin.  The  conditions  that  he  made 
with  me,  before  parting  with  the  secret  of  the  Dutch 
bottle,  were,  that  I should  take  the  fortune,  and  that  he 
should  take  his  Mound  and  no  more.  1 owe  every  thing 
i possess  solely  to  the  disinterestedness,  uprightness,  ten-^ 
derness,  goodness  (there  are  no  words  to  satisfy  me)  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs*  BofSn.  And  when,  knowing  vrhat  I knew^ 
I saw  such  a mud-worm  as  you  presume  to  rise  in  this 
house  against  this  noble  soul,  the  wonder  is,’’  added  John 
Harmon  through  his  clenched  teeth,  and  with  a very  ugly 
turn  indeed  on  Wegg’s  cravat,  that  I didn’t  try  to  twist 
your  head  off,  and  fling  that  out  of  window  ! So.  That’s 
the  last  short  speech,  do  you  understand  ?” 

Silas,  released,  jDut  his  hand  to  his  throat,  cleared  it^ 
and  looked  as  if  he  had  a rather  large  fish  bone  in  that 
region.  Simultaneously  with  this  action  on  his  part  in 
his  corner,  a singular,  and  on  the  surface  an  incompre- 
hensible, movement  Was  made  by  Mr.  Sloppy  : who  began 
backing  toward  Mr.  Wegg  along  the  wall,  in  the  manner 
of  a porter  or  beaver  who  is  about  to  lift  a sack  of  flour 
or  coals. 

I am  sorry,  Wegg,”  said  Mr*  Boffin,  in  his  clemency, 
that  my  old  lady  and  I can’t  have  a better  opinion  of 
you  than  the  bad  one  we  are  forced  to  entertain*  But  I 
shouldn’t  like  to  leave  you,  after  all  said  and  done.  Worse 
off  in  life  than  I found  you.  Therefore  say  in  a word, 
before  we  part,  what  it’ll  cost  to  set  you  up  in  another 
stalk” 

'‘And  in  another  place,”  John  Harmon  struck  in* 
“ You  don’t  come  outside  these  windows*” 

“ Mr.  Boffin,”  returned  Wegg  in  avaricious  humiliation ; 
“ when  I first  had  the  honor  of  making  your  acquaintance, 


244 


. OtJR  MUTUAL  FUJEND. 


I had  got  together  a collection  of  ballads  whicb  \lras,  I 
may  say,  above  price.” 

Then  they  can’t  be  paid  for,”  said  John  Harmon, 
” and  yon  had  better  not  try,  my  dear  Sir.” 

“Pardon  me,  Mr.  Boffin,”  resumed  Wegg,  with  a 
malignant  glance  in  the  last  speaker’s  direction,  “ I was 
putting  the  case  to  you,  who,  if  my  senses  did  not  deceive 
me,  put  the  case  to  me.  I had  a very  choice  collection 
of  ballads,  and  there  was  a new  stock  of  gingerbread  in 
the  tin  box.  I say  no  more,  but  would  rather  leave  it  to 
you.” 

“ Bat  it’s  difficult  to  name  what’s  right,”  said  Mr.  Boffin 
uneasily,  with  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  “ and  I don’t  want 
to  go  beyond  wdiat’s  right,  because  you  really  have  turned 
out  such  a very  bad  customer.  So  artful,  and  so  ungrate- 
ful you  have  been,  Wegg;  for  when  did  I ever  injure 
you  ?” 

“ There  was  also,”  Mr.  Wegg  went  on,  in  a meditative 
manner,  “ a errand  connection,  in  which  I was  much  re- 
spected. But  I would  not  wish  to  be  deemed  covetuous, 
and  I would  rather  leave  it  to  you,  Mr.  Boffin.” 

“ Upon  my  word,  I don’t  know  what  to  put  it  at,”  the 
Golden  Dustman  muttered. 

“ There  was  likewise,”  resumed  Wegg,  “a  pair  of 
trestles,  for  which  alone  a Irish  person,  who  was  deemed 
a judge  of  trestles,  offered  five  and  six — sum  I would 
not  hear  of,  for  I sliould  have  lost  by  it— and  there  was  a 
stool,  a umbrella,  a clothes-horse,  and  a tray.  Bat  I 
leave  it  to  yon,  Mr.  Boffin.” 

The  Golden  Dustman  seeming  to  be  engaged  in  some 
abstruse  calculation,  Mr.  Wegg  assisted  him  wdth  the  fol- 
lowing additional  items. 


OUK  MUTUAL  FSTEND. 


245 


**  Ther©  further,  Miss  Elizabetli,  Master  George, 
Aunt  Jane,  and  Uncle  Parker.  Ah  ! When  a man 
thinks  of  the  loss  of  such  patronage  as  that ; when  a man 
finds  so  fair  a garden  rooted  up  by  pigs  ; he  finds  it  hard 
indeed,  witlicut  going  high,  to  work  it  into  money.  But 
I leave  it  wholly  to  you,  Sir.” 

Mr.  Sloppy  still  continued  his  singular,  and  on  the  sur- 
face his  incomprehensible,  movement. 

Leading  on  has  been  mentioned,”  said  Wegg,  with  a 
melancholy  air,  and  iPs  not  easy  to  say  how  far  the 
tone  of  my  mind  may  have  been  lowered  by  unwholesome 
reading  on  the  subject  of  Misers,  when  you  was  leading 
me  and  others  on  to  think  you  one  yourself,  Sir.  All  I 
can  say  is,  tlmt  I felt  my  tone  of  mind  a lowering  at  the 
time.  And  how  can  a man  put  a price  upon  his  mind  ! 
There  was  likewise  a hat  just  now.  But  I leave  the  ole 
to  you,  Mr.  BoiSii.” 

Come  !”  said  Mr.  Boffin.  “ Here’s  a couple  of 
pound.” 

In  justice  to  myself,  I couldn’t  take  it.  Sir.” 

Tl)e  words  were  but  out  of  liis  mouth  when  John  Har- 
mon lifted  his  finger,  and  Sloppy,  who  was  now  close  to 
Wegg,  backed  to  Wegg’s  back,  stooped,  grasped  his  coat 
collar  behind  with  both  hands,  and  deftly  swung  him  up 
like  the  sack  of  flour  or  coals  before  mentioned.  A coun- 
tenance'of  special  discontent  and  amazement  Mr.  Wegg 
exhibited  in  this  position,  with  his  buttons  almost  as 
prominently  on  view  as  Sloppy’s  own,  and  witli  his  wooden 
leg  in  a highly  unaccommodating  state.  But  i;ot  for 
many  seconds  was  his  countenance  visible  in  the  room  ; 
for  Sloppy  lightly  trotted  out  with  him  and  trotted  down 
the  staircase,  Mr.  Venus  attending  to  open  the  street 


246 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND* 


door.  Mr.  Sloppy’s  instructions  had  been  to  deposit  his 
burden  in  the  road  ; but  a scavenger’s  cart  happening  to 
stand  unattended  at  the  corner,  with  its  little  ladder 
planted  against  the  wheel,  Mr.  S.  found  it  impossible  to 
resist  the  temptation  of  shooting  Mr.  Silas  V/egg  into  the 
cart’s  contents.  A somewhat  difficult  feat,  achieved  with 
great  dexterity,  and  with  a prodigious  splash. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


247 


CHAPTER  XV. 

WHAT  WAS  CAUGHT  IN  THE  TRAPS  THAT  WERE  SET. 

How  Bradley  Headstone  had  been  racked  and  riven  in 
his  mind  since  the  quiet  evening  when  by  the  river-side  he 
had  risen,  as  it  were,  out  of  the  ashes  of  the  Bargeman, 
none  but  he  could  have  told.  Not  even  he  could  have 
told,  for  such  misery  can  only  be  felt. 

First,  hc‘  had  to  bear  the  combined  weight  of  the 
knowledge  of  what  he  had  done,  of  that  haunting  reproach 
that  he  might  have  done  it  so  much  better,  and  of  the 
dread  of  discovery.  This  was  load  enough  to  crush  him, 
and  he  labored  under  it  day  and  night.  It  was  as  lieavy 
on  him  in  Ids  scanty  sleep  as  in  his  red-eyed  waking 
hours.  It  bore  him  down  with  a dread  unchanging 
'monotony,  in  which  there  was  not  a moments  variety. 
The  overweighted  beast  of  burden,  or  the  overweighted 
slave,  can  for  certain  instants  shift  the  physical  load,  and 
find  some  slight  respite  even  in  enforcing  additional  pain 
upon  such  a set  of  muscles  or  such  a limb.  Not  even  that 
poor  mockery  of  relief  could  the  wretched  man  obtain, 
under  the  steady  pressure  of  the  infernal  atmosphere  into 
which  he  had  entered. 

Time  went  by,  and  no  visible  suspicion  dogged  him  ; 
time  went  by,  and  in  such  public  accounts  of  the  attack 
as  were  renewed  at  intervals,  he  began  to  see  Mr.  Light- 


248 


OUB  MUTUAL  FRIITHD. 


wood  (who  acted  as  lawyer  for  the  injured  man)  straying 
further  from  tlie  fact,  going  wider  of  the  issue,  and  evi- 
dently slackening  in  his  zeal.  By  degrees  a glimmering 
of  the  cause  of  this  began  to  break  on  Bradley^s  sight. 
Then  came  the  chance  encounter  with  Mr.  Milvey  at  the 
railway  station  (where  he  often  lingered  in  his  leisure 
lioiirs,  as  a place  where  any  fresh  news  of  his  deed  would 
be  circulated,  or  any  placard  referring  to  it  would  be" 
posted),  and  then  he  saw  in  the  light  what  ho  had 
brouglit  about. 

For  then  he  saw  that  through  bis  desperate  attempt  to 
separate  those  two  forever  he  had  been  n'lade  the  means 
of  uniting  them.  That  he  had  dipped  his  hands  in  blood 
to  mark  bimseli  a miserable  foo^  and  tool.  That  Eugene 
Wrayburn,  for  his  wife's  sake,  set  him  aside  and  left  him 
to  crawl  along  his  blasted  course.  He  thought  of  Fate, 
or  Providence,  or  be  the  directing  Power  what  it  might, 
as  having  put  a fraud  upon  him — overreaclied  him — and 
in  bis  impotent  mad  rage  bit,  and  tore,  and  had  his  fit. 

NeAv  assurance  of  the  truth  came  upon  him  in  the  next 
few'  following  days,  when  it  was  put  forth  how  the 
wounded  man  had  been  married  on  his  bed,  and  to  whom, 
and  how,  though  always  in  a dangerous  condition,  he  was 
a shade  better.  Bradley  would  far  rather  have  been 
seized  for  his  murder  than  he  would  have  read  that  pas- 
sage, knowing  himself  spared,  and  knowing  why. 

But,  not  to  be  still  further  defrauded  and  overreached — • 
Avhicli  li-e  would  be  if  implicated  by  Riderliood,  and  pun- 
ished by  the  law  for  his  abject  failure,  as  though  it  had 
been  a success — he  kept  close  in  his  school  during  the 
day,  ventured  out  warily  at  night,  and  went  no  more  to 
the  railway  station.  He  examined  the  advertisements  in 


€VR  MUTUAL  FI^IEND.  . 249 

the  newspapers  for  any  sign  that  Riderhood  acted  on  his 
hinted  threat  of  so  summoning  him  to  renew  their  ac- 
quaintance, but  found  none.  Having  paid  liim  hand- 
somely lor  the  support  and  accommodation  he  had  had  at 
the  Lock  House,  and  knowing  him  to  be  a very  ignorant 
man  who  could  not  write,  he  began  to  doubt  wlietlier  he 
was  to  be  feared  at  all,  or  whether  they  need  ever  meet 
again. 

All  this  time  his  mind  was  never  off  the  rack,  and  his 
raging  sense  of  having  been  made  to  fling  himself  across 
the  chasm  which  divided  those  two,  and  bridge  it  over 
for  their  coming  together,  never  cooled  down.  This  hor- 
rible condition  brought  on  other  lits.  He  could  not  have 
said  how  many,  or  when  ; but  he  saw  in  the  faces  of  his 
pupils  tliat  they  had  seen  him  in  that  state,  and  that  they 
were  possessed  by  a.  dread  of  his  relapsing. 

One  winter  day,  vrhen  a slight  fall  of  snow  was  feather- 
ing the  silis  and  frames  of  the  school-room  windows,  he 
stood  at  his  blackboard,  crayon  in  hand,  about  to  com- 
mence with  a class  ; when,  reading  in  the  countenances  of 
those  boys  that  there  was  sometliing  wrong,  and  that 
they  seemed  in  alarm  for  him,  he  turned  his  eyes  to  the 
door  towmrd  which  they  faced.  He  then  saw  a slouching 
man  of  forbidding  appearance  standing  in  the  midst  of 
the  school,  with  a bundle  under  bis  arm  ; and  saw  that  it 
was  Kideriiood. 

He  sat  down  on  a stool  which  one  of  his  boys  put  for 
him,  and  he  had  a passing  knowledge  that  he  was  in  dan- 
ger of  falling,  and  tiuit  liis  face  was  becoming  distorted. 
But  tlie  fit  went  off  for  that  time,  and  he  wiped  his 
mouth,  and  stood  up  again. 

'‘Beg  your  pardon,  governor  ! By  your  leave  T’  said 


250 


cm  MUTUAL  FHIEND. 


Eiderhood,  kmickling  his  forehead,  with  a chuckle  and  a 
leer.  What  place  may  this  be 

This  is  a school. 

Where  young  folks  learns  wot’s  right  said  Eider- 
hood,  gravely  nodding.  Beg  your  pardon,  governor  I 
By  your  leave  ! But  who  teaches  this  school 
‘^do.^’ 

You’re  the  master,  are  you,  learned  governor  ?” 

“ Yes.  I am  the  master.” 

And  a lovely  thing  it  must  be,”  sa.id  Eiderhood, 
fur  to  learn  }"oung  folks  wot’s  right,  and  fur  to  know 
wot  Mey  know  wot  you  do  it.  Beg  your  pardon,  learned 
governor  ! By  your  leave  ! That  there  blackboard  ; 
wot’s  it  for  ?” 

“ It  is  for  drawing  on,  or  writing  on.” 

“It  is  though!”  said  Eiderhood.  “Who’d  have 
thought  It,  from  the  looks  on  it ! Would  you  be  so  kind 
as  write  your  name  upon  it,  learned  governor  1”  (In  a 
wheedling  tone.) 

Bradley  hesitated  for  a moment  ; but  placed  his  usual 
signature,  enlarged,  upon  the  board. 

“ I ain’t  a learned  character  myself,”  said  Eiderhood, 
surveying  the  class,  “ but  I do  admire  learning  in  others. 
I should  dearly  like  to  hear  these  here  young  folks  read 
that  there  name  off  from  the  writing.” 

The  arms  of  the  class  went  up.  At  the  miserable  mas* 
tor’s  nod  the  shrill  chorus  arose  : “ Bradley  Headstone  !” 
“ No  ?”  cried  Eiderhood.  “ You  don’t  mean  it. 
Headstone  ! Why,  that’s  in  a church-yard.  Hooroar 
for  another  turn  !” 

Another  tossing  of  arms,  another  nod,  and  another 
shrill  chorus  : “ Bradley  Headstone  I” 


OUR  MDTUxVL  FRIEND. 


251 


Fve  got  it  now  said  Riderhood,  after  attentively 
listening,  and  internally  repeating  : Bradley.  I see. 

Christen  name,  Bradley,  simdar  to  Roger,  which  is  my 
own.  Eh  ? Fam’ly  name.  Headstone,  simdar  to  Rider- 
hood,  which  is  my  own.  Eh 
''  Shrill  chorus.  Yes  P’ 

Might  you  be  acquainted,  learned  governor,’’  said 
Riderhood,  with  a person  of  «about  your  own  heiglith 
and  breadth,  and  wot  ’ud  pull  down  in  a scale  about  your 
own  weight,  ansv/ering  to  a name  sounding  summat  like 
Totherest  ?” 

With  a desperation  in  him  that  made  him  perfectly 
quiet,  though  his  jaw  was  heavily  squared  ; with  his  eyes 
upon  Riderhood  ; and  with  traces  of  quickened  breath- 
ing ill  his  nostrils,  the  schoolmaster  replied,  in  a sup- 
pressed voice,  after  a pause  ; I think  I know  the  man 
you  mean.” 

I thought  you  knowed  the  man  I mean,  learned  gov- 
ernor, I want  the  man,” 

With  a half  glance  around  him  at  his  pupils,  Bradley 
returned  : Bo  you  suppose  he  is  here  ?” 

^'Begging  your  pardon,  learned  governor,  and  by  your 
leave,”  said  Riderhood,  with  a laugh,  how  could  I sup- 
pose he’s  here,  when  there’s  nobody  here  but  you,  and 
me,  and  these  young  iambs  wot  you’^’e  a learning  on  ? 
But  he’s  most  excellent  company,  that  man,  and  I want 
him  to  come  and  see  me  at  my  Lock,  up  the  river.” 

I’ll  tell  him  so.”  * 

“ D’ye  think  he’ll  come  ?”  asked  Riderhood. 

I am  sure  he  will,” 

Having  got  your  word  for  him,”  said  Riderhood,  I 
shall  count  upon  him.  **  P’raps  you’d  so  fur  obleege  me, 


£52 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


learned  governor,  as  teli  him  that  if  he  don’t  come  pre- 
cious soon  ni  look  him  up.” 

He  shall  know  it.” 

Thankee.  As  I says  a while  ago,”  pursued  Rider- 
hood,  changing  bis  hoarse  tone  and  leering  round  upon 
the  class  again,  “ tbougli  not  a learned  character  iny 
own  self,  I do  admire  learning  in  others,  to  be  sure  ! 
Being  here  and  having  met  with  your  kind  attention, 
Mastei',  might  I,  afore  I go,  ask  a question  of  these  iiere 
young  lambs  of  yourri  ?” 

''  If  it  is  ill  the  way  of  school,”  said  Bradley,  always 
sustaining  his  dark  look  at  the  other,  and  speaking  in  his 
suppressed  voice,  yon  may.” 

''  Oh  ! It’s  in  the  way  of  school  !”  cried  Riderhood. 
“ ril  pound  it,  Master,  to  be  in  the  way  of  school.  Wot’s 
the  divvisions  of  water,  my  .lambs  ? Wot  sorts  of  water 
is  there  on  the  land  ?” 

Shrill  chorus  : ''Seas,  rivers,  lakes,  and  ponds.” 

" Seas,  rivers,  lakes,  and  ponds,”  said  Riderhood. 
" The}”ve  got  all  the  lot,  Master  ! Blowed  if  I should’nt 
have  left  out  lakes,  never  having  clapped  eyes  upon  one, 
to  my  knowledge.  Seas,  rivers,  lakes,  and  ponds.  Wot  is 
it,  lambs,  as  they  catches  in  seas,  rivers,  lakes,  and  ponds 
" Shrill  chorus  (with  some  contempt  for  the  ease  of  the 
question)  : " Fisli#!” 

Good  agin  !”  i^aid  Riderhood.  “ But  wot  eke  k it, 
my  iambs,  as  they  sometimes  ketches  in  rivers  ?” 

Chorus  at  a loss.  One  ^shrill  voice  ; “Weed  !” 

“ Good  agin  !”  cried  Riderhood.  “ But  it  ain’t  weed 
neither.  You’ll  never  guess,  my  dears.  Wot  is  it,  be- 
sides fish,  as  they  sometimes  ketches  in  rivers  ? Well  1 
I’ll  tell  you.  It’s  suits  o’  clothes.” 


OUK3ii'TUAL  FKIEND. 


253 


Bradley-'s  face  cTianged. 

“ Leastways,  lambs,”  said  Riderliood,  observing  him 
out  of  file  corners  of  his  eyes,  that^s  wot  I my  own  seif 
sometimes  ketches  in  livers.  For  strike  me  blind,  my 
lambs,  if  I didii^t  ketch  in  a river  the  wery  bundle  under 
my  arm  !” 

The  class  looked  at  the  master,  as  if  appealing  from 
the  irregular  entrapment  of  this  mode  of  examination. 
The  master  looked  at  the  examiner,  as  if  lie  would  have 
torn  him  to  pieces. 

‘‘  I ask  your  pardon,  learned  governor,”  said  Rider- 
hood,  smearing  his  sleeve  across  his  mouth  as  he  laughed 
with  a relish,  “ T-aiii’t  fair  to  the  lambs,  I know.  It  wos 
a bit  of  fan  of  mine.  But  upon  my  soul  I drawed  this 
here  bundle  out  of  a river  ! IBs  a BargemaiBs  suit  of 
clotlies.  You  see  it  had  been  sunk  there  by  the  man  as 
wore  it,  and  I got  it  up.” 

How  do  you  know  it  was  sunk  by  the  man  who  wore 
it  ?”  asked  Bradley. 

’Cause  I see  him  do  it,”  said  Riderhood. 

They  looked  at  each  other.  Bradley,  slowly  with- 
drawing liis  eyes,  turned  his  face  to  the  blackboard  and 
siowlf  wiped  liis  name  out. 

A heap  of  thanks.  Master,”  said  lliderhood,  for 
bestowing  so  much  of  your  time,  and  of  the  lambses’ 
time,  upon  a man  ns  hasn’t  got  no  other  recommendation 
to  you  than  being  a honest  man.  Wishing  to  see  at  my 
jjock  up  the  river  the  person  as  we’ve  spoke  of,  and  as 
you’ve  answered  for,  I takes  my  leave  of  the  lambs  and 
of  their  learned  governor  both.” 

With  those  words  be  slouched  out  of  the  school, 
leaving  the  master  to  get  through  bis  weary  work  as  he 


254 


OTO  MUTUAL  FHTKND. 


might,  and  leaving  the  whispering  pupils  to  observe  the 
master’s  hice  until  he  fell  into  the  fit  which  had  been  long 
impending* 

The  next  day  but  one  was  Saturday,  and  a holiday. 
Bradley  rose  early,  and  set  out  on  foot  for  Plashwater 
Weir  Mill  Loch.  He  rose  so  early  that  it  was  not  yet 
light  when  he  began  his  journey.  Before  extinguishing 
tlie  candle  by  which  he  had  dressed  himself  he  made  a 
little  parcel  of  his  decent  silver  watch  and  its  decent 
guard,  and  wro^te  inside  the  paper:  ‘‘Kindly  take  care  of 
these  for  me.”  lie  then  addressed  the  parcel  to  Miss 
Peecher,  and  left  it  on  the  most  protected  corner  of  the 
little  seat  in  her  little  porch. 

It  was  a cold  hard  easterly  morning  when  he  latched 
the  garden  gate  and  turned  away.  The  light  snowfall 
which  had  feathered  his  schoolroom  windows  on  the 
Thursday  still  lingered  in  the  air,  and  was  falling  white 
while  the  wind  blew  black.  The  tardy  day  djd  not 
appear  until  he  had  been  on  foot  two  hour§,  and  had 
traversed  a great  part  of  London  from  east  to  west. 
Such  breakfast  as  he  had  he  took  at  the  comfortless  public 
house  where  he  had  parted  from  Riderhood  on  the  occa- 
sion of  their  night-walk.  He  took  it,  standing  art  the 
littered  bar,  and  looked  loweringly  at  a man  who  stood 
where  Riderhood  had  stood  that  early  morning. 

He  outwalked  the  short  day,  and  was  on  the  towing- 
-path by  the  rivei\  somewhat  foot-sore,  when  the  night 
closed  in.  Still  two  or  three  miles  short  of  the  Lock,  he 
slackened  his  pace  then,  but  went  steadily  on.  The 
ground  was  now  covered  with  snow,  though  thinly,  and 
there  \vere  floating  lumps  of  ice  in  the  more  exposed 
parts  of  the  river,  and  broken  sheets  of  ice  under  the 


OtTR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


255 


shelter  of  the  banks.  He  took  heed  of  nothing  but  the 
ice,  the  snow,  and  the  distance,  until  he  saw  a light  ahead, 
which  hediiiew  gleamed  from  the  Lock  House  window. 
It  arrested  his  steps,  and  he  looked  all  around.  The  ice, 
and  the  snow,  and  he,  and  the  one  light,  had  absolute 
possession  of  the  dreary  scene.  In  tlie  distance  before 
him,  lay  the  place  where  he  had  struck  the  worse  than 
useless  blows  that  mocked  him  with  Lizzie’s  presence 
there  as  Eugene’s  wife.  In  the  distance  behind  him,  lay 
the  place  where  the  children  with  pointing  arms  had 
seemed  to  devote  him  to  the  demons  in  crying  out  his 
name.  Within  there,  where  the  light  was,  was  the  man 
who  as  to  both  distances  could  give  him  up  to  ruin.  To 
these  limits  had  his  world  shrunk. 

He  mended  his  pace,  keeping  his  eyes  upon  the  light 
with  a strange  intensity,  as  if  he  were  taking  aim  at  it. 
When  he  approached  it  so  nearly  as  that  it  parted  into 
rays,  they  seemed  to  histen  themselves  to  him  and  draw 
him  on.  When  he  struck  the  door  with  his  hand,  his  foot 
followed  so  quickly  on  his  hand  that  he  was  in  the  room 
before  he  was  bidden  to  enter. 

Tiie  light  was  the  joint  product  of  a fire  and  a candle. 
Between  the  two,  with  his  feet  on  the  iron  fender,  sat 
Pviderhood,  pipe  in  mouth. 

He  looked  up  with  a surly  nod  when  his  visitor  came 
in.  His  visitor  looked  down  with  a surly  nod.  His  outer 
clothing  removed,  the  visitor  then -took  a seat  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  fire. 

“ Not  a smoker,  I think  ?”  said  Eiderhood,  pushing  a 
bottle  to  him  across  the  table. 

^‘No.” 

They  both  lasped  into  silence  with  their  eyes  upon  the  fire. 


S56 


OUK  MUTUAL  FItlEND. 


You  don^t  need  to  be  told  I am  here/^  said  Bradley 
at  length.  ‘‘  Who  is  to  begin 

ril  begin,”  said  Riderhood,  when  IVe  smoked  this 
here  pipe  out.” 

He  finished  it  with  great  deliberation,  knocked  out 
the  ashes  on  the  hob,  and  put  it  by. 

“ ril  begin,”  he  then  repeated,  Bradley  Headstone, 
Master,  if  you  wish  it.” 

Wish  it?  I wish  to  know  wliat  you  want  with  me.” 

“ And  so  you  shall.”  Riderhood  had  looked  hard  at 
his  hands  and  his  pockets,  apparently  as  a precautionary 
measure  lest  he  should  hare  any  weapon  about  him.  But 
lie  now  leaned  forward,  turning  the  collar  of  his  waist- 
coat with  an  inquisitive  finger,  and  asked,  Why,  where’s 
your  watch  ?” 

I have  left  it  behind.” 

“ I want  it.  But  it  can  be  fetched.  I’ve  took  a fancy 
to  it.” 

Bradley  answered  with  a contemptuous  laugh. 

''I  want  it,”  repeated  Riderhood,  iu  a louder  voice, 
*'and  I mean  to  have  it.” 

That  is  what  you  want  of  me,  is  it  ?” 

'‘No,”  said  Riderhood,  still  louder  ; “it’s  on’y  part  of 
what  I want  of  you.  I want  money  of  you.” 

" Any  thing  else  ?” 

“Every  thing  else!”  roared  Pdderhood,  in  a very  loud 
and  furious  way.  Answer  me  like  tliat  and  I won’t 
talk  to  you  at  all.” 

Bradley  looked  at  him. 

“ Don’t  so  much  as  look  at  me  like  that  or  I won’t  talk 
to  you  at  all,”  vociferated  Riderhood.  “ But,  instead  of 
talking,  I’ll  bring  my  hand  down  upon  you  with  ail  ita 


OCTS  MrrTAL  B'KTKND. 


25T 


weight/^  heavily  smiting  the  table  with  great  force,  ‘^and 
smash  you!’’ 

Go  on,”  said  Bradley,  after  moistening  his  lips. 

‘‘0!  Pm  agoing  on.  Don’t  you  fear  but  I’ll  go  on 
full-fast  enough  for  you,  and  far  enough  for  you  without 
your  telling.  Look  here,  Bradley  Headstone,  Master. 
You  might  have  split  the  T’other  governor  to  chips  and 
wedges,  without  my  caring,  except  that  I might  have 
come  upon  you  for  a glass  or  so  now  and  then.  Else  why 
have  to  do  with  you  at  all  ? But  when  you  copied  my 
clothes,  and  when  you  copied  my  neckhankercher,  and 
when  you  shook  blood  upon  me  after  you  had  done  the 
trick,  you  did  wot  I’li  be  paid  for  and  paid  heavy  for. 
If  it  come  to  be  throw’d  upon  you,  you  was  to  be  ready 
to  throw  it  upon  me,  was  you  ? Where  else  but  in  Plash- 
water  Weir  Mill  Lock  was  there  a man  dressed  accord- 
ing as  described  ? Yvliere  else  but  iu  Plashwater  Weir 
Mill  Lock  was  there  a man  as  had  had  words  with  liim 
coming  through  in  his  boat  ? Look  at  the  Lock-keeper 
in  Plashwater  Weir  Mill  Lock,  in  them  same  answering 
clothes  and  with  that  same  answering  red  neckhankercker, 
and  see  whether  his  clothes  happens  to  be  bloody  or  not. 
Yes,  they  do  happeif  to  be  bloody.  Ah,  you  sly  devill” 
Bradley,  very  white,  sat  looking  at  him  in  silence. 

But  two  could  play  at  your  game,”  said  Rider- 
hood,  snapping  his  fingers  at  him  half  a dozen  times, 
and  I played  it  long  ago  ; long  afore  you  tried  your 
clnmsy  hand  at  it ; in  days  when  you  hadn’t  begun 
croaking  your  lectors  or  what  not  in  your  school.  I 
know  to  a figure  how  you  done  it.  Where  you  stole 
away  I could  steal  away  arter  you,  and  do  it  know- 
inger  than  you.  I know  how  you  come  away  from 


258 


OTJK  ilUTUAL  FRIEND. 


London  in  your  own  clothes,  and  where  you  changed 
your  clothes  and  hid  your  clothes.  I see  you  with  rny 
own  eyes  take  your  own  clothes  from  their  hiding- 
place  among  them  felled  treCs  and  take  a dip  in  the 
river  to  account  for  your  dressing  ^murself,  to  any  one 
as  might  come  by.  I see  you  rise  up  Bradley  Head- 
stone, Master,  where  you  sat  down  Bargeman.  I see 
you  pitch  your  Bargeman’s  bundle  into  the  river.  I 
hooked  your  Bargeman’s  bundle  out  of  the  river.  I’ve 
got  3’our  Bargeman’s  clothes,  tore  this  way  and  that 
way  with  the  scuffle,  stained  green  with  the  grass,  and 
spattered  all  over  with  what  bust  from  the  blows. 
I’ve  got  them,  and  I’ve  got  you.  I don’t  care  a curse 
for  the  T’other  governor,  alive  or  dead,  but  I care  a 
many  curses  for  my  own  self.  And  as  you  laid  your 
plots  agin  me  and  was  a sly  devil  agin  me.  I’ll  be 
paid  for  it — I’ll  be  paid  for  it — I’ll  be  paid  for  it — till 
I’ve  drained  you  dry  !” 

Bradley  looked  at  the  fire  with  a working  face  and 
was  silent  for  a while.  At  last  he  said,  with  what 
seemed  an  inconsistent  composure  of  voice  and 
feature  : 

“ You  can’t  get  blood  out  of  a st^one,  Biderhood.*’ 

“ I can  get  money  out  of  a schoolmaster,  though.” 
You  can’t  get  out  of  me  what  is  not  in  me.  You 
can’t  wrest  from  me  what  I have  not  got.  Mine  is 
but  a poor  calling.  You  have  had  more  than  two 
guineas  from  me  already.  Do  you  know  how  long  it 
has  taken  me  (allowing  for  a long  and  arduous  train-- 
ing)  to  earn  such  a sum  ?” 

I don’t  know,  nor  I don’t  care.  Yours  is  a ’spect- 
able  calling.  To  save  your  ’spectability  it’s  worth 


OTJR  MUTUAL  FEIEND. 


259 


your  while  to  pawn  every  article  of  clothes  you’ve  got, 
sell  every  stick  in  your  house,  and  beg  and  borrow 
every  penny  you  can  get  trusted  with.  When  you’ve 
done  that  and  handed  over  I’ll  leave  you.  Not 
afore.” 

How  do  you  mean,  you’ll  leave  me  ?” 

I mean  as  I’ll  keep  your  company,  wherever  you 
go,  when  you  go  away  from  here.  Let  the  Lock  take 
care  of  itself.  I’ll  take  care  of  you,  once  I’ve  got 
you.” 

Bradley  again  looked  at  the  fire.  Eying  him  aside, 
Riderhood  took  up  his  pipe,  refilled  it,  lighted  it,  and 
sat  smoking.  Bradley  leaned  his  elbows  on  his  knees, 
and  his  head  upon  his  hands,  and  looked  at  the  fire 
with  a most  intent  abstraction. 

‘‘Riderhood,”  he  said,  “raising  himself  in  his  chair, 
after  a long  silence,  and  drawing  out  his  purse  and 
putting  it  on  the  table.  “ Say  I part  with  this,  which 
is  all  the  money  I have  ; say  I let  you  have  my  watcli ; 
say  that  every  quarter,  when  I draw  my  salary,  I pay 
you  a certain  portion  of  it.” 

“ Say  nothing  of  the  sort,”  I'etorted  Riderhood, 
shaking  his  head  as  he  smoked.  “ You’ve  got  away 
once,  and  I won’t  run  the  chance  agin.  I’ve  had 
trouble  enough  to  find  you,  and  shouldn’t  have  found 
you,  if  I hadn’t  seen  you  slipping  along  the  street 
overnight,  and  watched  you  till  you  was  safe  housed. 
I’ll  have  one  settlement  with  you  for  good  and  all.” 

“ Riderhood,  I am  a man  who  has  lived  a secluded 
life.  I have  no  resources  beyond  myself.  I have 
absolutely  no  friends.” 

“ That’s  a lie,”  said  Riderhood.  “You’ve  got  one 


260 


ODE  MDTUAL  FEIEND. 


friend  as  I knows  of ; one  as  is  good  for  a Savings 
Bank  book,  or  I’m  a blue  monkey  !” 

Bradley’s  face  darkened,  and  iiis  hand  slowly  closed 
on  the  purse  and  drew  it  back,  as  he  sat  listening  for 
what  the  other  should  go  on  to  say. 

I went  into  the  wrong  shop,  fust,  last  Thursday/' 
said  Riderhood.  Found  myself  among  the  young 
ladies,  by  George  ! Over  the  young  ladies,  I see  a 
Missis.  That  Missis  is  sweet  enough  upon  }’ou,  Master, 
to  sell  herself  up,  slap,  to  get  you  out  of  trouble. 
Make  her  do  it  then." 

Bradley  stared  at  him  so  very  suddenly  that  Rider* 
hood  not  quite  knowing  how  to  take  it,  affected  to  be 
occupied  with  the  encircling  smoke  from  his  pipe  ; 
fanning  it  away  with  his  hand,  and  blowing  it  off. 

You  spoke  to  the  mistress,  did  you?”  inquired 
Bradley,  with  that  former  composure  of  voice  and 
feature  that  seemed  inconsistent,  and  with  averted 
eyes. 

Poof  ! Yes,"  said  Riderhood,  drawing  his  atten- 
tion from  the  smoke.  I spoke  to  her.  I didn’t  say 
much  to  her.  She  was  put  in  a fluster  by  my  dropping 
in  among  the  young  ladies  (I  never  did  set  up  for  a 
lady’s  man),  and  she  took  me  into  her  parlor  to  hope 
as  there  was  nolhing  wrong.  I tells  her,  ‘ 0 no,  no- 
thing wrong.  The  master’s  my  wcry  good  friend.’ 
But  I see  ):ow  the  land  laid,  and  that  she  was  comfort- 
able off.” 

Bradley  put  the  purse  in  his  pocket,  grasped  his  left 
wrist  with  his  right  hand,  and  sat  rigidly  contemplat- 
ing the  fire. 

‘‘  She  couldn’t  live  more  handy  to  you  than  she  does,” 


OUTS  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


261 


eaid  Eiclerbood,  “ and  when  I goes  home  with  yon  (as 
of  course  I am  agoing),  I recommend  you  to  clean  her 
out  without  loss  of  lime.  You  can  marry  her  arter 
you  and  me  have  come  to  a settlement.  She’s  nice- 
looking,  and  I know  you  can’t  be  keeping  company 
with  no  one  else,  having  been  so  lately  disapinted  in 
another  quarter.” 

Not  one  other  word  did  Bradley  utter  all  that  night. 
Not  once  did  he  change  his  attitude,  or  loosen  his  hold 
upon  bis  wrist.  Rigid  before  the  fire,  as  if  it  was  a 
charmed  fiame  that  was  turning  him  old,  as  he  sat, 
with  the  dark  lines  deepening  in  his  face,  its  stare  be- 
coming more  and  more  haggard,  its  surface  turning 
whiter  and  whiter  as  if  it  were  being  overspread  with 
ashes,  and  the  very  texture  and  color  of  his  hair  de- 
generating. 

Not  until  the  late  daylight  made  the  wdndow  trans- 
parent did  this  decaying  statue  move.  Then  it  slowly 
arose,  and  sat  in  the  window,  looking  out. 

Eiderhood  had  kept  his  chair  all  night.  In  the 
earlier  part  of  the  night  he  had  muttered  twice  or 
thrice  that  it  wms  bitter  cold  ; or  that  the  fire  burned 
fast,  when  he  got  up  to  mend  it  ; but  as  he  could  elicit 
from  his  companion  neither  sound  nor  movement,  he 
had  afterward  held  his  peace.  He  was  making  some 
disorderly  preparations  for  coffee,  when  Bradley  came 
from  the  wdndow  and  put  on  his  outer  coat  and  hat. 

Hadn’t  us  better  have  a bit  o’  breakfast  afore  we 
start?”  said  Eiderhood.  It  ain’t  good  to  freeze  a 
empty  stomach.  Master.” 

Without  a sign  to  show  that  he  heard,  Bradley  walk- 
ed out  of  the  Lock  House.  Catching  up  from  the  table 


m 


OtfU  MVWAL 


a piece  of  bread,  and  taking  his  Bargeman’s  bundle 
under  bis  arm,  Riderhood  immediately  followed  him. 
Bradley  turned  toward  London.  Riderhood  caught 
him  up,  and  walked  at  his  side. 

The  two  men  trudged  on,  side  by  side,-  in  silence, 
full  three  miles<  Suddenl^^,  Bradley  turned  to  retrace 
his  course.  Instantly,  Riderhood  turned  likewise,  and 
they  went  back  side  by  side. 

Bradley  re-entered  the  Lock  House.  So  did  Rider- 
hood. Bradley  sat  down  in  the  window.  Riderhood 
tvarmed  himself  at  the  fire.  After  an  hour  or  more, 
Bradley  abruptly  got  up  again,  and  again  went  out, 
but  this  time  turned  the  other  way,  Riderhood  was 
close  after  him,  caught  him  up  in  a few  paces,  and 
walked  at  his  side. 

This  time,  as  before,  w^hen  he  found  his  attendant 
not  to  be  shaken  off,  Bradley  suddenly  turned  back. 
Tins  time,  as  before,  Riderhood  turned  back  along 
with  him.  But  not  this  time,  as  before,  did  they  go 
into  the  Lock  House,  for  Bradley  came  to  a stand  on 
the  snow-covered  turf  the  Lock,  looking  up  the 
river  and  down  the  river,  Navigation  was  impeded 
by  the  frost,  and  the  scene  was  a mere  white  and  yel- 
low desert. 

“ Come,  come,  Master,”  urged  Riderhood,  at  his  side. 
‘‘This  is  a dry  game.  And  where’s  the  good  of  it? 
You  can’t  get  rid  of  me,  except  by  coming  to  a settle- 
ment. I am  ag:oing  along  with  you  wherever  you 
go.” 

Without  a word  of  reply,  Bradley  passed  quickly 
from  him  over  the  wooden  bridge  on  the  lock  gates. 
“ Why,  there’s  even  less  sense  in  this  move  than 


GTJE  MUTtTAL  JEIEKD. 


263 


toother, Raid  Riderhood,  following,  “ The  Weirds  there^ 
and  you’ll  have  to  come  back,  you  knov/.^’ 

Without  taking  the  least  notice,  Bradley  leaned  hia 
body  against  a post,  in  a resting  attitude,  and  there 
rested  with  his  eyes  cast  down.  Being  brought  here,’’' 
said  Riderhood,  gruffly,  “ I’ll  turn  it  to  some  use  by 
changing  my  gates/’  With  a rattle  and  a rush  of 
water  he  then  swung-to  the  lock  gates  that  were  stand-^ 
ing  open,  before  opening  the  others.  So,  both  sets  of 
gates  W'Cre,  for  the  moment,  closed. 

‘‘You’d  better  by  far  be  reasonable,  Bradley  Head- 
stone, Master,”  said  Riderhood,  “ or  I’ll  drain  you  all 
the  drier  for  it,  when  we  do  settle. — Ah  ! Would 
you  !” 

Bradley  had  caught  Mm  round  the  bod3^  He  seem- 
ed to  be  girdled  with  an  iron  ring.  They  were  on  the 
brink  of  the  Lock,  about  midway  between  the  two 
sets  of  gates. 

. “Let go  said  Riderhood,  “or  I’ll  get  my  knife  out 
and  slash  you  wherever  I can  cut  you,  T^et  go  !” 
Bradley  w^as  drawing  to  the  Lock-edge.  Riderhood 
was  drawing  away  from  it.  It  was  a strong  grapple, 
and  a fierce  struggle,  arm  and  leg.  Bradley  got  him 
round,  with  his  back  to  the  Lock,  and  still  worked  him 
backward, 

“ Let  go  !”  said  Riderhood.  “ Stop  ! What  are 
you  trying  at  ? You  can’t  drown  Me.  Ain’t  I told 
3’ou  that  the  man  as  has  come  through  drowning  can 
never  be  drowned  ? I can’t  be  drowned.” 

“ I can  be  I”  returned  Bradley,  in  a desperate, 
clenched  voice.  “ I am  resolved  to  be.  Ifll  hold  you 
living,,  and  I’ll  hold  you  dead.  Come  down  I” 


26i 


OtJK  MUTtTAL  FKIEND. 


Riderbood  went  over  into  the  smooth  pit,  backward, 
and  Bradley  Headstone  upon  him.  When  the  two 
were  found,  lying'  under  the  ooze  and  scum  behind  one 
of  the  rotting  g'^tes,  Riderhood’s  hold  had  relaxed, 
probably  in  falling,  and  liis  eyes  were  staring  upward. 
But  he  was  girdled  still  with  Bradley^s  iron  ring,  and 
the  rivets  of  the  iron  ring  held  tight. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


265 


CHAPTER  XYI. 

PERSONS  AND  THINGS  IN  GENERAL. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Harmon^s  first  delightfal  occupation 
was,  to  set  all  matters  right  that  had  strayed  in  any  way 
wrong,  or  that  might,  could,  would,  or  should,  have 
strayed  in  any  way  wrong,  while  their  name  was  in 
abeyance.  In  tracing  out  affairs  for  which  John^s  ficti- 
tious death  was  toTbe  considered  in  any  way  responsible, 
they  used  a very  broad  and  free  construction;  regarding, 
for  instance,  the  dolls^  dress-maker  as  having  a claim  on 
their  protection,  because  of  her  association  with  Mrs. 
Eugene  Wrayburn,  and  because  of  Mrs.  Eugene’s  old 
association,  in  her  turn,  with  the  dark  side  of  the  story. 
It  followed  that  the  old  man,  Riah,  as  a good  and  ser- 
viceable friend  to  both,  was  not  to  be  disclaimed.  Xor 
even  Mr.  Inspector,  as  having  been  trepanned  into  an 
industrious  bunt  on  a false  scent.  It  may  be  remarked,  in 
connection  with  that  worthy  officer,  that  a rumor  shortly 
afterward  pervaded  the  Force,  to  the  effect  that  he  had 
coinfided  to  Miss  Abbey  Potterson,  over  a jug  of  mellow 
flip  in  the  bar  of  the  Six  Jolly  Fellowship  Porters,  that 
he  “didn’t  stand  to  loose  a farthing”  through  Mr.  Har- 
mon’s coming  to  life,  but  was  quite  as  well  satisfied  as  if 
that  gentleman  had  been  barbarously  murdered,  and  he 
(Mr.  Inspector)  had  pocketed  the  government  reward. 


266 


OUB  MUTUAL  FBIEND. 


In  all  their  arrangements  of  such  nature,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
John  Harmon  derived  mucli  assistance  from  their  eminent 
solicitor,  Mr.  Mortimer  Lightwood;  who  laid  about  him 
professionally  with  such  unwonted  dispatch  and  intention, 
that  a piece  of  work  was  vigorously  pursued  as  soon  as 
cut  out;  whereby  Young  Blight  was  acted  on  as  by  that 
transatlantic  dram  which  is  poetically  named  An  Eye 
Opcmer,  and  found  himself  staring  at  real  clients  instead 
of  out  of  window.  The  accessibility  of  Riah  proving 
very  useful  as  to  a few  hints  toward  the  disentanglement 
of  Eugene^s  affairs,  Lightwood  applied  himself  with 
infinite  zest  to  attacking  and  harassing  Mr.  Eledgeby: 
who,  discovering  himself  in  danger  of  being  blown  into 
the  air  by  certain  explosive  transactions  in  which  he  had 
been  engaged,  and  having  been  already  flayed  under  his 
beating,  came  to  a parley  and  asked  for  quarter.  The 
harmless  Twemlow  profited  by  the  conditions  entered  into, 
though  he  little  thought  it.  Mr.  Riah  unaccountably 
melted;  waited  in  person  on  him  over  the  stable-yard  in 
Duke  street,  St.  Jameses,  no  longer  ravening  but  mild, 
to  inform  him  that  payment  of  interest  as  heretofore,  but 
henceforth  at  Mr.  Lightwood’s  offices,  would  appease  bis 
Jewish  rancor;  and  departed  with  the  secret  that  Mr. 
John  Harmon  had  advanced  the  money  and  become  the 
creditor.  Thus  was  the  sublime  Snigsworth^s  wrath 
averted,  and  thus  did  he  snort  no  larger  amount  of  moral 
grandeur  at  the  Corinthian  column  in  the  print  over  the 
fire-place,  than  was  normally  in  his  (and  the  British) 
constitution. 

Mrs.  Wilfer’s  first  visit  to  the  Mendicants  bride  at 
the  new  abode  of  Mendicancy,  was  a grand  event.  Pa 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


267 


had  been  sent  for  into  the  City,  on  the  very  day  of  taking 
possession,  and  had  been  stunned  with  astonishment,  and 
brought-to,  and  led  about  the  house  by  one  ear,  to  be- 
hold its  various  treasures,  and  had  been  enraptured  and 
enchanted.  Pa  had  also  been  appointed  Secretary,  and 
had  been  enjoined  to  give  instant  notice  of  resignation  to 
Chicksey,  Veneering,  and  Stobbles,  for  ever  and  ever. 
But  Ma  came  later,  and  came,  as  was  her  due,  in  state. 

The  carriage  was  sent  for  Ma,  who  entered  it  with  a 
bearing  worthy  of  the  occasion,  ac(K)mpanied,  rather 
than  supported,  by  Miss  Lavinia,  who  altogether  de- 
clined to  recognize  the  maternal  majesty.  Mr.  George 
Sampson  meekly  followed.  He  was  received  in  the  vehi- 
cle, by  Mrs.  Wilfer,  as  if  admitted  to  the  honor  of  assist- 
ing at  a funeral  in  the  family,  and  she  then  issued  the  or- 
der, Onward  to  the  Mendicant’s  menial. 

I wish  to  goodness,  Ma,”  said  Lavvy,  throwing  her- 
self back  among  the  cushions,  with  her  arms  crossed, 

that  you’d  loll  a little.” 

How  I”  repeated  Mrs.  Wilfer.  Loll  !” 

Yes,  Ma.” 

“ I hope,”  said  the  impressive  lady,  **  I am  incapable 
of  it.” 

“I  am  sure  you  look  so,  Ma.  But  why  one  should 
go  out  to  dine  with  one’s  own  daughter  or  sister,  as  if 
one’s  under-petticoat  was  a back-board,  I do  not'  under- 
stand.” 

''Neither  do  I understand,”  retorted  Mrs.  Wilfer, 
with  deep  scorn,  " how  a young  lady  can  mention  the 
garment  in  the  name  of  which  you  have  indulged.  I 
blush  for  you.” 

" Thank  you,  Ma,”  said  Lavvy,  yawning,  " but  I can 


268 


Otm  MtJTUAL  FRIEND- 


do  it  for  myself,  I am  obliged  to  you,  when  there’s  any 
occasion.” 

Here  Mr.  Sampson,  with  the  view  of  establishing  har- 
mony, which  he  never  under  any  circumstances  succeeded 
in  doing,  said,  with  an  agreeable  smile  r **  After  all,  you 
know,  ma’am,  we  know  it’s  there.”  And  immediately  felt 
that  he  had  committed  himself. 

We  know  it’s  there  !”  said  Mrs.  Wilfer,  glaring. 

Really,  George,”  remonstrated  Miss  Lavinia,  I 
must  say  that  I don’t  understand  your  allusions,  and 
that  I think  you  might  be  more  delicate  and  less 
personal.” 

Go  it !”  cried  Mr.  Sampson,  becoming,  on  the  short- 
est notice,  a prey  to  despair.  Oh  yes  ! Go  it,  Miss 
Lavinia  Wilfer  !” 

What  you  may  mean,  George  Sampson,  by  your 
omnibus-driving  expressions,  I cannot  pretend  to  imagine. 
Neither,”  said  Miss  Lavinia,  ''  Mr.  George  Sampson,  do 
I wish  to  imagine.  It  is  enough  for  me  to  know  in  my 
own  heart  that  I am  not  going  to — ” having  imprudently 
got  into  a sentence  without  providing  a way  out  of  it. 
Miss  Lavinia  was  constrained  to  close  with  going  to  go 
it.”  A weak  conclusion,  which,  however,  derived  some 
appearance  of  strength  from  disdain.  ^ 

Oh  yes  !”  cried  Mr.  Sampson,  with  bitterness.  ^‘Thus 
it  ever  is.  I never — ” 

‘'If  you  mean  to  say,”  Miss  Lavvy  cut  him  short, 
" that  you  never  brought  up  a young  gazelle,  you  may 
save  yourself  the  trouble,  because  nobody  in  this  carriage 
supposes  that  you  ever  did.  We  know  you  better.”  (As 
if  this  were  a home-thrust.) 

" Lavinia,”  returned  Mr.  Sampson,  in  a dismal  vein, 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


269 


**  I did  not  mean  to  say  so.  What  I did  mean  to  say 
was,  that  I never  expected  to  retain  my  favored  place  in 
this  farhily  after  Foitune  shed  her  beams  upon  it.  Why 
do  you  take  me,^^  said  Mr.  Sampson,  ''  to  the  glittering 
halls  with  which  I can  iieyer  compete,  and  then  taunt  me 
with  my  moderate  salary  ? Is  it  generous  ? Is  it 
kind 

The  stately  lady,  Mrs.  Wilfer,  perceiving  her  oppor- 
tunity of  delivering  a few  remarks  from  the  throne,  here 
took  up  the  altercation. 

Mr.  Sampson, she  began,  “I  can  not  permit  you  to 
misrepresent  the  intentions  of  a child  of  mine.” 

Let  him  alone,  Ma,”  Miss  Lavvy  interposed  with 
haughtiness.  It  is  indifferent  to  me  what  he  says  or 
does.” 

0- 

“ Nay,  Lavinia,”  quoth  Mrs.  Wilfer,  ‘‘this  touches  the 
blood  of  the  family.  If  Mr.  George  Sampson  attributes, 
even  to  my  youngest  daughter — ” 

(“  I doriT  see  why  you  should  use  the  word  ‘ even,^ 
Ma,”  Miss  Lavvy  interposed,  “ because  I am  quite  as  im- 
portant as  any  of  the  others.”) 

“Peace!”  said  Mrs.  Wilfer,  solemnly.  “I  repeat. 
If  Mr.  George  Sampson  attributes  to  my  youngest 
daughter  groveling  motives,  he  attributes  them  equally 
to  the  mother  of  my  youngest  daughter.  That  mother 
repudiates  them,  and  demands  of  Mr.  George  Sampson,  as 
a youth  of  honor,  what  he  would  have  ? I may  be  mis- 
taken— nothing  is  more  likely — but  Mr.  George  Samp- 
son,” proceeded  Mrs.  Wilfer,  majestically  waving  her 
gloves,  “ appears  to  me  to  be  seated  in  a first-class  equip- 
age. Mr.  George  Sampson  appears  to  me  to  be  on  his 
way,  by  his  own  admission,  to  a residence  that  may  be 


270 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


termed  Palatial.  Mr.  George  Sampson  appears  to  me  to 
be  invited  to  participate  in  the — shall  I say  the — Eleva- 
tion which  has  descended  on  the  family  with  which  he 
is  ambitious,  shall  I say  to  Mingle  ? Whence,  then,  this 
tone  on  Mr.  Sampson^s  part  ?’^ 

“ It  is  only,  ma^am,”  Mr.  Sampson  explained,  in  ex- 
ceedingly low  spirits,  because,  in  a pecuniary  sense,  I 
am  painfully  conscious  of  my  unworthiness.  Lavinia  is 
now  highly  connected.  Can  I hope  that  s^he  will  still  re- 
main the  same  Lavinia  as  of  old  ? And  is  it  not  pardon- 
able if  I feel  sensitive  when  I see  a disposition  on  her 
part  to  take  me  up  short 

‘‘If  you  are  not  satisfied  with  your  position,  Sir,” 
observed  Miss  Lavinia,  with  much  politeness,  “ we  can 
set  you  down  at  any  turning^ou  may  please  to  indicate 
to  my  sister’s  coachman.” 

“ Dearest  Lavinia,”  urged  Mr.  Sampson,  pathetically, 

I adore  you.” 

“ Then  if  you  can’t  do  it  in  a more  agreeable  manner,” 
returned  the  young  lady,  “ I wish  you  wouldn’t.” 

“ I also,”  pursued  Mr.  Sampson,  respect  you,  ma’am, 
to  an  extent  which  must  ever  be  below  your  merits,  I am 
well  aware,  but  still  up  to  an  uncommon  mark.  Bear 
with  a wretch,  Lavinia,  bear  with  a wretch,  ma’am,  who 
feels  the  noble  sacrifices  you  make  for  him,  but  is  goaded 
almost  to  madness,”  Mr.  Sampson  slapped  his  forehead, 
“ when  he  thinks  of  competing  with  the  rich  and  influen- 
tial.” 

“ When  you  have  to  compete  with  the  rich  and  influen- 
tial it  will  probably  be  mentioned  to  you,”  said  Miss 
Lavvy,  “ in  good  time.  At  least  it  will  if  the  case  is 
my  case.” 


OCR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


271 


Mr.  Sampson  immediately  expressed  his  fervent  opinion 
’ tliat  tliis,was  “ more  than  human, and  was  brought  upon 
his  knees  at  Miss  Lavinia’s  feet. 

It  was  the  crowning  addition  indispensable  to  the  full 
enjoyment  of  both  mother  and  daughter,  to  bear  Mr. 
Sampson,  a grateful  captive,  into  the  glittering  halls  he 
had  mentioned,  and  to  parade  him  through  the  same,  at 
once  a living  witness  of  their  glory,  and  a bright  instance 
of  their  condescension.  Ascending  the  staircase.  Miss 
Lavinia  permitted  him  to  walk  at  her  side,  with  the  air 
of  saying:  “Notwithstanding  all  these  surroundings,  I am 
yours  as  yet,  George.  How  long  it  may  last  is  another 
question,  but  I am  yours  as  yet.”  She  also  benignantly 
intimated  to  him,  aloud,  the  nature  of  the  objects  upon 
which  he  looked,  aud  to  which  he  was  unaccustomed:  as, 
“ Exotics,  George,”  “An  aviary,  George,”  “ An  ormolu 
clock,  George,”  and  the  like.  While  through  the  whole  of 
the  decorations,  Mrs.  Wilfer  led  the  way  with  the  bearing 
of  a Savage  Chief,  who  would  feel  himself  compromised  by 
manifesting  the  slightest  token  of  surprise  or  admiration. 

Indeed,  the  bearing  of  this  impressive  woman  through- 
out the  day  was  a pattern  to  ail  impressive  women  under 
similar  circumstances.  She  renewed  the  acquaintance  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin,  as  if  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin  had  said 
of- her  what  she  had  said  of  them,  and  as  if  Time  alone 
could  quite  wear  her  injury  out.  She  regarded  every 
servant  who  approached  her  as  her  sworn  enemy,  ex- 
pressly intending  to  offer  her  affronts  with  the  dishes,  and 
to  pour  forth  outrages  on  her  moral  feelings  from  the 
decanters.  She  sat  erect  at  table,  on  the  right  hand  of 
her  son-in-law,  as  half  suspecting  poison  in  the  viands, 
and  as  bearing  up  with  native  force  of  character  against 


272 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


other  deadly  ambushes.  Her  carriage  toward  Bella  was 
as  a carriage  toward  a young  lady  of  good  position  whom  ^ 
she  had  met  in  society  a few  years  ago.  Even  when, 
slightly  thawing  under  tlie  influence  of  sparkling  Cham- 
pagne, she  related  to  her  son-in-law  some  passages  of 
domestic  interest  concerning  her  papa,  she  infused  into 
the  narrative  such  Arctic  suggestions  of  her  having  been 
an  unappreciated  blessing  to  mankind,  since  her  papa’s 
days,  and  also  of  that  gentleman’s  having  been  a frosty 
impersonation  of  a frosty  race,  as  struck  cold  to  the 
stomachs  of  the  hearers.  The  Inexhaustible  being  pro- 
duced, staring,  and  evidently  intending  a weak  and  washy 
smile  shortly,  no  sooner  beheld  her  than  it  was  stricken 
spasmodic  and  inconsolable.  When  she  took  her  leave 
at  last,  it  would  have  been  hard  to  say  whether  it  was 
with  the  air  of  going  to  the  scaffold  herself,  or  of  leav- 
ing the  inmates  of  the  house  for  immediate  execution. 
Yet  John  Harmon  enjoyed  it  all  merrily,  and  told  his 
wife,  when  he  and  she  were  alone,  that  her  natural  ways 
had  never  seemed  so  dearly  natural  as  beside  this  foil, 
and  that  although  he  did  not  dispute  her  being  her 
father’s  daughter,  he  should  ever  remain  steadfast  in  the 
faith  that  she  could  not  be  her  mother’s. 

This  visit  was,  as  has  been  said,  a grand  event.  An- 
other event,  not  grand,  but  deemed  in  the  house  a special 
one,  occurred  at  about  the  same  period;  and  this  was  the 
flrst  interview  between  Mr.  Sloppy  and  Miss  Wren. 

The  dolls’  dress-maker  being  at  work  for  the  Inexhaus- 
tible upon  a full-dressed  doll  some  two  sizes  larger  than 
that  young  person,  Mr.  Sloppy  undertook  to  call  for  it, 
and  did  so 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


273 


Come  in,  Sir,’^  said  Mim  Wren,  who  was  working-  at 
her  bench.  “And  who  may  you  be 

Mi\  * Sloppy  introduced  himself  by  name  and  buttons. 
“ Oh,  indeed  cried  Jenny.  “ Ah  I I have  been  look- 
ing forward  to  knowing  you.  I heard  of  your  distinguish- 
ing yourself.’’ 

“ Did  you.  Miss  grinned  Sloppy.  “ I am  sure  I am 
glad  to  hear  it,  but  I don’t  know  how.” 

“ Pitching  somebody  into  a mud-cart,”  said  Miss  Wren. 
“ Oh!  That  way!”  cried  Sloppy,  “ Yes,  Miss.”  And 
threw  back  his  head  and  laughed. 

“ Bless  us  I”  exclaimed  Miss  Wren,  with  a start. 
“ Don’t  open  your  mouth  as  wide  as  that,  young  man,  or 
it’ll  catch  so,  and  not  shut  again  some  day.” 

Mr.  Sloppy  opened  it,  if  possible,  wider,  and  kept  it 
open  until  his  laugh  was  out. 

“ Why,  you’re  like  tlie  giant,”  said  Miss  Wren,  “ when 
he  came  home  in  the  land  of  Beanstalk,  and  wanted 
Jack  for  supper.” 

“Was  he  good-looking.  Miss  ?”  asked  Sloppy, 

“ ]Sro,”  said  Miss  Wren.  “ Ugly.” 

Her  visitor  glanced  round  the  room — which  had  many 
comforts  in  it  now  that  had  not  been  in  it  before — and 
said:  “This  is  a pretty  place,  Miss.” 

“ Glad  you  think  so.  Sir,”  returned  Miss  Wren.  “And 
what  do  you  think  of  Me  ?” 

The  honesty  of  Mr.  Sloppy  being  severely  taxed  by  the 
question,  he  twisted  a button,  grinned,  and  faltered. 

“ Out  with  it  I”  said  Miss  Wren,  with  an  arch  look. 
“ Don’t  you  think  me  a queer  little  comicality  ?”  In 
shaking  her  head  at  him,  after  asking  the  question,  she 
shook  her  hair  down. 


2U 


OVR  MUTUAL  FEIEND. 


“ Oh  cried  Sloppy,  in  a burst  of  admiration.  Wha,t 
a lot,  and  wliat  a color  !^’ 

Miss  Wren,  with  her  usual  expressive  hitch,  went  on 
with  her  work.  But  left  her  hair  as  it  was  ; not  dis- 
pleased by  the  effect  it  had  made. 

You  don’t  live  here  alone,  do  you,  Miss  ?”  asked 
Sloppy. 

No,”  said  Miss  Wren,  with  a chop.  **  Live  here  with 
tny  fairy  godmother.” 

‘‘With—”  Mr.  Sloppy  couldn’t  make  it  out  j “with 
who  did  you  say.  Miss  ?” 

“ Well  !”  replied  Miss  Wren,  more  seriously.  “ With 
my  second  father.  Or  with  my  first,  for  that  matter.” 
And  she  shook  her  head  and  drew  a sigh.  “ If  you 
had  known  a poor  child  I used  to  have  here,”  she 
added,  “ you’d  have  understood  me.  But  you  didn’t, 
and  you  can’t.  All  the  better  !” 

“ You  must  have  been  taught  a long  time,”  said 
Sloppy,  glancing  at  the  array  of  dolls  in  hand,  “ before 
you  came  to  work  so  neatly,  Miss,  and  with  such  a 
pretty  taste.” 

“ Never  was  taught  a stitch,  young  man  I”  returned 
the  dress-maker,  tossing  her  head.  “ Just  gobbled  and 
gobbled,  till  I found  out  how  to  do  it.  Badly  enough 
at  first,  but  better  now.” 

“ And  here  have  I,”  said  Sloppy,  in  something  of  a 
self-reproachful  tone,  “ been  a learning  and  a learning, 
and  here  has  Mr.  BofSn  been  a paying  and  a pairing, 
ever  so  long  ?” 

“ I have  heard  what  your  trade  is,”  observed  Miss 
Wren;  “it’s  cabinet-making'.” 

Mr.  Sloppy  nodded.  “ Now  that  the  Mounds  is  done 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


275 


with,  it  i^.  I’ll  tell  you  what,  Miss.  I should  like  to 
make  you  something.” 

Much  obliged.  But  what?” 

“ I could  make  you,”  said  Sloppy,  surveying  the 
room,  ‘‘  I could  make  you  a handy  set  of  nests  to  lay 
the  dolls  in.  Or  I could  make  you  a handy  little  set 
of  drawers  to  keep  your  silks,  and  threads,  and  scraps 
in.  Or  1 could  turn  you  a rare  handle  for  that  crutch- 
stick,  if  it  belongs  to  him  you  call  your  father.” 

It  belongs  to  me,”  returned  the  little  creature, 
with  a quick  flush  of  her  face  and  neck.  “ I am 
lame.” 

Poor  Sloppy  flushed  too,  for  there  was  an  instinctive 
delicacy  behind  his  buttons,  and  his  own  hand  had 
struck  it.  He  said,  perhaps,  the  best  thing  in  the  way 
of  amends  that  could  be  said.  “I  am  very  glad  it^s 
yours,  because  I’d  rather  ornament  it  for  you  than  for 
any  one  else.  Please  may  I look  at  it  ?” 

Miss  Wren  was  in  the  act  of  handing  it  to  him  over 
her  bench  when  she  paused.  But  you  had  better 
see  me  use  it,”  she  said,  sharply.  This  is  the  way. 
Hoppetty,  Kicketty,  Pep-peg-peg.  Not  pretty,  is  it  ?” 
It  seems  to  me  that  you  hardly  want  it  at  all,”  said 
Sloppy. 

The  little  dress-maker  sat  down  again,  and  gave  it 
into  his  hand,  saying,  with  that  better  look  upon  her, 
and  with  a smile  : Thank  you  1” 

And  as  concerning  the  nests  and  the  drawers,” 
said  Sloppy,  after  measuring  the  handle  on  his  sleeve, 
and  softly  standing  the  stick  aside  against  the  wall, 
why,  it  would  be  a real  pleasure  to  me.  I’ve  heerd 
tell  that  you  can  sing  most  beautiful ; and  I should  be 


OUS  MCrTUAL  FRIEND. 


2T0 

better  paid  with  a song*  than  with  any  money  ; for  I 
always  loved  the  likes  of  that,  and  often  giv^  Mrs.  Hig- 
den  and  Johnny  a comic  song  myself,  with  ‘Spoken^ 
ill  it.  Though  that’s  not  your  sort,  I’ll  wager.” 
‘‘You  are  a very  kind  young  man,”  returned  the 
dress-maker  ; “ a really  kind  young  man.  I accept 
your  offer. — I suppose  He  won’t  mind,”  she  added  as 
an  after-thought,  shrugging  her. shoulders ; “and  if  ho 
does  he  may  I” 

“ Meaning  him  that  you  call  your  father,  Miss 
asked  Sloppy. 

“ No,  no,”  replied  Miss  Wren.  “ Him,  Him,  Him  !” 
“ Him,  him,  him  ?”  repeated  Sloppy,  staring  about, 
as  if  for  Him. 

“ Him  who  is  coming  to  court  and  marry  me,”  re- 
turned Miss  Wren.  “ Dear  me,  how  slow  you  are.” 

“ Oh  ! Hm  said  Sloppy.  And  seemed  to  turn 
thoughtful  and  a little  troubled.  “ I never  thought  of 
him.  When  is  he  coming,  Miss  ?” 

“What  a question!”  cried  Miss  Wren.  “How 
should  /know  !” 

“ Where  is  he  coming  from.  Miss  ?” 

“ Why,  good  gracious,  how  can  I tell  ! He  is  com- 
ing from  somewhere  or  other,  I suppose,  and  he  is 
coming  some  day  or  other,  I suppose.  / don’t  know 
any  more  about  him  at  present.” 

This  tickled  Mr.  Sloppy  as  an  extraordinarily  good 
joke,  and  ho  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  with 
measureless  enjoyment.  At  the  sight  of  him  laugh- 
ing in  that  absurd  way  the  dolls’  dress-maker  laughed 
very  heartily  indeed.  So  they  both  laughed  till  they 
were  tired. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEKD. 


277 


‘‘There,  there,  there  1’^  said  Miss  Wren.  “For 
goodness^  sake  stop,  Giant,  or  I shall  be  swallowed  up 
alive  hefore  I know  it.  And  to  this  minute  you 
haven’t  said  what  you’ve  come  for.” 

“ I have  come  for  little  Miss  .Bar mouses  doll,”  said 
Sloppy. 

“ I thought  as  much,”  remarked  Miss  Wren,  “ and 
here  is  little  Miss  Harmonses  doll  waiting  for  you. 
She’s  folded  up  in  silver  paper,  you  see,  as  if  she  was 
wrapped  from  head  to  foot  in  new  Bank-notes.  Take 
care  of  her,  and  there’s  my  hand,  and  thank  you 
again.” 

“ I’ll  take  more  care  of  her  than  if  she  was  a gold 
image,”  said  Sloppy,  “ and  there’s  both  my  hands.  Miss, 
and  I’ll  soon  come  back  again.” 

But  the  greatest  event  of  all,  in  the  new  life  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  John  Harmon,  was  a visit  from  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Eugene  Wrayburn.  Sadly  wan  and  worn  was  the 
once  gallant  Eugene,  and  walked  resting  on  his  wife’s 
arm,  and  leaning  heavily  upon  a stick.  But  he  was 
daily  growing  stronger  and  better,'  and  it  was  declared 
by  the  medical  attendants  that  he  might  not  be  much 
disfigured  by-and-by.  It  was  a grand  event,  indeed, 
when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Eugene  Wrayburn  came  to  staj^  at 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Harmon’s  house:  where,  by-the- 
way,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boffin  (exquisitely  happy,  and  daily 
cruising  about  to  look  at  shops)  were  likewise  staying 
indefinitely. 

To  Mr.  Eugene  Wrayburn,  in  confidence,  did  Mrs. 
John  Harmon  impart  what  she  had  known  of  the  state 
of  his  wife’s  affections,  in  his  reckless  time.  And  to 


278 


OtTR  MtrrUAL  PRIEKD. 


Mrs.  John  Harmon,  in  confidence,  did  Mr.  Eugene 
Wrayburn  impart  that,  please  God,  she  should  see 
bow  his  wife  had  changed  him  ! 

I make  no  protestations,^^  said  Eugene  ; — who 

does,  who  means  them  ! — I have  made  a resolution.” 
But  would  you  believe,  Bella,”  interposed  his  wife, 
coming  to  resume  her  nurse’s  place  at  his  side,  for  he 
never  got  on  well  without  her  : that  on  our  wedding- 

day  he  told  me  he  almost  thought  the  best  thing  he 
could  do  was  to  die 

“As  I didn’t  do  it,  Lizzie,”  said  Eugene,  “ I’ll  do 
that  better  thing  you  suggested — for  your  sake.” 

That  same  afternoon,  Eugene  lying  on  his  couch  in 
his  own  room  up  stairs,  Lightwood  came  to  chat  with 
him,  while  Bella  took  his  wife  out  for  a ride.  “ No- 
thing short  of  force  will  make  her  go,”  Eugene  had 
said  ; so,  Bella  had  playfully  forced  her. 

“ Dear  old  fellow,”  Eugene  began  with  Lightwood, 
reaching  up  his  hand,  “ you  couldn’t  have  come  at  a bet- 
ter time,  for  ray  mind  is  full,  and  I want  to  empty  it. 
First,  of  my  present,  before  I touch  upon  my  future. 
M.  R.  F.,  who  is  a *much  younger  cavalier  than  I,  and  a 
professed  admirer  of  beauty,  was  so  affable  as  to  remark 
the  other  day  (he  paid  us  a visit  of  two  days  up  the  river 
there,  and  much  objected  to  the  accommodation  of  the 
hotel J,  that  Lizzie  ought  to  have  her  portrait  painted. 
Which,  coming  from  M.  R.  F.,  may  be  considered  equiva- 
lent to  a melodramatic  blessing.” 

“ You  are  getting  well,”  said  Mortimer,  with  a smile. 

“ Really,”  said  Eugene,  “ I mean  it.  When  M.  R.  F. 
said  that,  and  followed  it  up  by  rolling  the  claret  (for 
which  he  called,  and  I paid)  in  bis  mouth,  and  saying, 


O0K  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


279 


* My  dear  son,  why  do  you  drink  this  trash  ?’  it  was  tan- 
tamount— in  him — to  a paternal  benediction  on  our  union, 
accompanied  with  a gush  of  tears.  The  coolness  of  M. 
R.  F.  is  not  to  be  measured  by  ordinary  standards  " 

'‘  True  enough,”  said  Lightwood. 

“ThaFs  all,”  pursued  Eugene,  " that  I shall  ever  hear 
from  M.  K.  P.  on  the  subject,  and  he  will  continue  to 
saunter  through  the  world  with  his  hat  on  one  side.  My 
marriage  being  thus  solemnly  recognized  at  the  family 
altar,  I have  no  further  trouble  on  that  score.  Next,  you 
really  have  done  wonders  for  me,  Mortimer,  in  easing  my 
money-perplexities,  and  with  such  a guardian  and  stew- 
ard beside  me,  as  the  preserver  of  my  life  (I  am  hardly 
strong  yet,  you  see,  for  I am  not  man  enough  to  refer  to 
her  without  a trembling  voice — she  is  so  inexpressibly 
dear  to  me,  Mortimer  !),  the  little  that  I can  call  my  own 
will  be  more  than  it  ever  has  been.  It  need  be  more,  for 
you  know  what  it  always  has  been  in  my  hands.  Noth- 
inor.” 

O 

" Worse  than  nothing,  I fancy,  Eugene.  My  own  small 
income  (I  devoutly  wish  that  my  grandfather  had  left  it 
to  the  Ocean  rather  than  to  me  !)  has  been  an  effective 
Something,  in  the  way  of  preventing  me  from  turning  to 
at  Any  thing.  And  I think  yours  has  been  much  the  same.” 

“ There  spake  the  voice  of  wisdom,”  said  Eugene. 
"We  are  shepherds  both.  In  turning  to  at  last,  we  turn 
to  in  earnest.  Let  us  say  no  more  of  that,  for  a few  years 
to  come.  Now,  I have  had  an  idea,  Mortimer,  of  taking 
myself  and  my  wife  to  one  of  the  colonies,  and  working 
out  my  vocation  there.” 

" I should  be  lost  without  you,  Eugene  ; but  you  may 
be  right.” 


280 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


ISTo/^  said  Engene,  emphatically.  Not  right. 
Wrong.’^ 

He  said  it  with  such  a lively — almost  angry — flash, 
that  Mortimer  showed  himself  greatly  surprised. 

You  think  this  thumped  head  of  mine  is  excited 
Eugene  went  on,  with  a high  look  ; not  so,  believe  me. 
I can  say  to  you  of  the  healthful  music  of  my  pulse  what 
Hamlet  said  of  his.  My  blood  is  up,  but  wholesomely  up, 
wdien  I think  of  it.  Tell  me  I Shall  I turn  coward  to 
Lizzie,  and  sneak  away  with  her,  as  if  I were  ashamed  of 
her  ! Where  would  your  friend^s  part  in  this  world  be, 
Mortimer,  if  she  had  turned  coward  to  him,  and  on  im- 
measurably better  occasion 

Honorable  and  stanch,'^  said  Lightwood.  And  yet, 

Eugene 

And  yet  what,  Mortimer 

And  yet,  are  you  sure  that  you  might  not  feel  (for 
her  sake,  I say  for  her  sake)  any  slight  coldness  toward 
her  on  the  part  of — Society  V’ 

Oh  ! You  and  I may  well  stumble  at  the  word,^^ 
returned  Eugene,  laughing.  Do  we  mean  our  Tip- 
pins 

Perhaps  we  do,’^  said  Mortimer,  laughing  also. 

Faith,  we  no  returned  Eugene,  with  great  anima- 
tion. We  may  hide  behind  the  bush  and  beat  about  it^ 
but  we  no  I Now,  ray  wife  is  something  nearer  to  my 
heart,  Mortimer,  than  Tippins  is,  and  I owe  her  a little 
more  than  I owe  to  Tippins,  and  I am  rather  prouder  of 
her  than  I ever  was  of  Tippins.  Therefore,  I wdil  fight  it 
out  to  the  last  gasp,  with  her  and  for  her,  here,  in  the 
open  field.  When  I hide  her,  or  strike  for  her,  faint- 
heartedly, in  a hole  or  a corner,  do  you,  whom  I love 


OUR  MUTUAL  FEIEND. 


281 


next  best  Upon  earth,  tell  me  what  I shall  most  righteously 
deserve  to  be  told  : — that  she  would  have  done  well  to 
turn  me  over  with  her  foot  that  night  wdien  I lay  bleeding 
to  death,  and  spat  in  my  dastard  face.” 

The  glow  that  shone  upon  him  as  he  spoke  the  words 
so  irradiated  his  features  that  he  looked,  for  the  time,  as 
though  he  had  never  been  mutilate.  His  friend  re- 
sponded as  Eugene  would  have  had  him  respond,  and 
they  discoursed  of  the  future  until  Lizzie  came  back. 
After  resuming  her  place  at  his  side,  and  tenderly  touch- 
ing his  hands  and  his  head,  she  said  : 

“ Eugene,  dear,  you  made  me  go  out,  but  I ought  to 
have  staid  with  you.  You  are  more  flushed  than 
you  have  been  for  many  days.  What  have  you  been 
doing  ?” 

'‘Nothing,”  replied  Eugene,  " but  looking  forward  to 
your  coming  back.” 

" And  talking  to  Mr.  Lightwood,”  said  Lizzie,  turning 
to  him  with  a smile.  " But  it  can  not  have  been  Society 
that  disturbed  you.” 

" Eaith,  my  dear  love  !”  retorted  Eugene,  in  his  old 
airy  manner,  as  be  laughed  and  kissed  her,  " I rather  think 
it  was  Society,  though  I” 

The  word  ran  so  much  in  Mortimer  Lightwood^s 
thoughts  as  he  went  home  to  the  Temple  that  night,  that 
he  resolved  to  take  a look  at  Society,  which  he  had  not 
seen  for  a considerable  period. 


282 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


CHAPTER  THE  LAST, 

THE  VOICE  OF  SOCIETY. 

Behooves  Mortimer  Lightwood,  therefore,  to  answer  a 
dinner  card  from  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Veneering  requesting  the 
honor,  and  to  signify  that  Mr.  Mortimer  Lightwood  will 
be  happy  to  have  the  other  honor.  The  Veneerings  have 
beeh,  as  usual,  indefatigably  dealing  dinner  cards  to 
Society,  and  whoever  desires  to  take  a hand  had  best  be 
quick  about  it,  for  it  is  written  in  the  Books  of  the  Insol- 
vent Fates  that  Veneering  shall  make  a resounding  smash 
next  week.  Yes.  Having  found  out  the  clew  to  that 
great  mystery  how  people  can  contrive  to  live  beyond 
their  means,  and  having  over-jobbed  his  jobberies  as  legis- 
lator deputed  to  the  Universe  by  the  pure  electors  of 
Pocket  Breeches,  it  shall  come  to  pass  next  week  that 
Veneering  will  accept  the  Chiltern  Hundreds,  that  the 
legal  gentleman  in  Britannia^s  confidence  will  again  accept 
the  Pocket  Breeches  Thousands,  and  that  the  Veneerings 
will  retire  to  Calais,  there  to  live  on  Mrs.  Veneering^s 
diamonds  (in  which  Mr.  Veneering,  as  a good  husband, 
has  from  time  to  time  invested  considerable  sums),  and  to 
relate  to  Neptune  and  others,  how  that,  before  Veneering 
retired  from  Parliament,  the  House  of  Commons  was 
composed  of  himself  and  the  six  hundred  and  fifty-seven 
dearest  and  oldest  friends  he  had  in  the  world.  It  shall 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


283 


likewise  come  to  pass,  at  as  nearly  as  possible  the  same 
period,  that  Society  will  discover  that  it  always  did 
despise  Veneering,  and  distrust  Veneering,  and  that  when 
it  went  to  Veneering^s  to  dinner  it  always  had  misgivings — 
though  very  secretly  at  the  time,  it  would  seem,  and  in  a 
lierfectly  private  and  confidential  manner. 

The  next  week^s  books  of  the  Insolvent  Pates,  however, 
being  not  yet  opened,  there  is  the  usual  rush  to  the 
Veneerings,  of  the  people  who  go  to  their  house  to  dine 
with  one  another  and  not  with  them.  There  is  Lady 
Tippins.  There  are  Podsnap  the  Great  and  Mrs.  Pod- 
snap.  There  is  Twemlow.  There  are  Buffer,  Boots,  and 
Brewer.  There  is  the  Contractor,  who  is  Providence  to 
five  hundred  thousand  men.  There  is  the  Chairman, 
traveling  three  thousand  miles  per  week.  There  is  the 
brilliant  genius  who  turned  the  share-s  into  that  remark- 
ably exact  sum  of  three  hundred  and  seventy-five  thou- 
sand pounds,  no  shillings  and  no  pence. 

To  whom  add  Mortimer  Lightwood,  coming  in  among 
them  with  a rcassumption  of  his  old  languid  air,  founded 
on  Eugene,  and  belonging  to  the  days  when  he  told  the 
story  of  the  man  from  Somewhere. 

That  fresh  fairy,  Tippins,  all  but  screams  at  sight  of 
her  false  swain.  She  summons  the  deserter  to  her  with 
her  fan  ; but  the  deserter,  predetermined  not  to  come, 
talks  Britain  with  Podsnap.  Podsnap  always  talks 
Britain,  and  talks  as  il  he  were  a sort  of  Private  Watchman 
employed,  in  the  British  interests,  against  the  rest  of  the 
world.  “We  know  what  Russia  means,  Sir,^^  says  Pod- 
snap ; “ we  know  what  France  wants  ; we  see  what 
America  is  up  to  ; but  we  know  what  England  is.  ThaPs 
enough  for  us.^’ 


284 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEKD. 


However,  when  dinner  is  served,  and  Lightwood  drops 
into  his  old  place  over  against  Lady  Tippins,  she  can  be 
fended  olf  no  longer.  Long  banished  Eobinson  Cru- 
soe,’^ says  the  charmer,  exchanging  salutations,  How 
did  you  leave  the  Island 

Thank  you,'^  says  Lightwood.  It  made  no  com- 
plaint of  being  in  pain  any  where.” 

Say,  how  did  you  leave  the  savages  ?”  asks  Lady 
Tippins. 

‘‘They  were  becoming  civilized  when  I left  Juan  Fer- 
nandez,” says  Lightwood.  “ At  least  they  were  eating 
one  another,  which  looked  like  it.” 

“ Tormentor  !”  returns  the  dear  young  creature.  “ You 
know  what  I mean,  and  you  trifle  with  my  impatience. 
Tell  me  something,  immediately,  about  the  married  pair. 
You  were  at  the  wedding.” 

“ Was  I,  by-the-by  Mortimer  pretends,  at  great 
leisure,  to  consider.  “ So  I was  I” 

“ How  was  the  bride  dressed  ? In  rowing  costume  ?” 
Mortimer  looks  gloomy,  and  declines  to  answer. 

“ I hope  she  steered  herself,  skiffed  herself,  paddled 
herself,  larboarded  and  starboarded  herself,  or  whatever 
the  technical  term  is,  to  the  ceremony  ?”  continues  the 
playful  Tippins. 

“ However  she  got  to  it  she  graced  it,”  says  Mortimer. 
Lady  Tippins  with  a skittish  little  scream  attracts  the 
general  attention.  “ Graced  it  I Take  care  of  me  if  I 
faint.  Veneering.  He  means  to  tell  us  that  a horrid 
female  waterman  is  graceful  !” 

“ Pardon  me.  I mean  to  tell  you  nothing.  Lady  Tip- 
pins,” replies  Lightwood.  And  keeps  his  word  by  eating 
his  dinner  with  a show  of  the  utmost  indifference. 


OTTR  MUTUAL  FEIEKD.  285 

You  shall  not  escape  me  in  this  way,  you  morose 
backwoods-man,”  retorts  Lady  Tippins.  You  shall 
not  evade  the  question,  to  screen  your  friend  Eugene  who 
has  made  this  exhibition  of  himself.  The  knowledge 
ohall  be  brought  home  to  you  that  such  a ridiculous  affair 
is  condemned  by  the  voice  of  Society.  My  dear  Mrs. 
Veneering,  do  let  us  resolve  ourselves  into  a Committee 
of  the  whole  House  on  the  subject.” 

Mrs.  Veneering,  always  charmed  by  this  rattling  sylph, 
cries : Oh  yes  ! Do  let  us  resolve  ourselves  into  a Com- 

mittee of  the  whole  House  ! So  delicious  !”  Veneering 
says,  “ As  many  as  are  of  that  opinion,  say  Aye — con- 
trary, No — the  Ayes  have  it.”  But  nobody  takes  the 
slightest  notice  of  his  joke. 

Now,  I am  Chairwoman  of  Committees  !”  cries  Lady 
Tippins. 

What  spirits  she  has  !”  exclaims  Mrs.  Veneering  ; 
to  whom  likewise  nobody  attends.) 

**  And  this,”  pursues  the  sprightly  one,  is  a Commit- 
tee of  the  whole  House  to  what-you-may-call-it — elicit,  I 
suppose — the  voice  of  Society.  The  question  before  the 
Committee  is,  whether  a young  man  of  very  fair  family, 
good  appearance,  and  some  talent,  makes  a fool  or  a wise 
man  of  himself  in  marrying  a female  waterman,  turned 
factory  girl.” 

Hardly  so,  I think,”  the  stubborn  Mortimer  strikes 
in.  I take  the  question  to  be,  whether  such  a man  as 
you  describe.  Lady  Tippins,  does  right  or  wrong  in  mar- 
rying a brave  woman  (I  say  nothing  of  her  beauty), 
who  has  saved  his  life,  with  a wonderful  energy  and  ad- 
dress ; whom  he  knows  to  be  virtuous  and  possessed  of 
remarkable  qualities ; whom  he  has  long  admired,  and 
who  is  deeply  attached  to  him.”  ^ 


286 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND* 


excuse  me,”  says  Podsnap,  with  his  temper  and 
his  sbirt-oollar  about  equally  rumpled  ; “ was  this  young 
woman  ever  a female  Waterman  ?” 

**  Never.  But  she  sometimes  rowed  in  a boat  with  her 
father,  I believe.” 

General  sensation  against  young  woman.  Brewer  shakes 
his  head.  Boots  shakes  his  head.  Buffer  shakes  his  head. 

And  now,  Mr.  Lightwood,  was  she  ever,”  pursues 
Podsnap,  with  his  indignation  rising  high  into  those  hair- 
brushes of  his,  “ a factory  girl  ?” 

Never.  But  she  had  some  employment  in  a paper 
mill,  I believe.” 

General  sensation  repeated.  Brewer  says,  **  Oh  dear  I” 
Boots  says,  “ Oh  dear  !”  Buffer  says,  ‘‘  Oh  dear  !” 
All,  in  a rumbling  tone  of  protest. 

Then  all  / have  to  say  is,”  returns  Podsnap,  putting 
the  thing  away  with  his  right  arm,  “that  my  gorge  rises 
against  such  a marriage — that  it  offends  and  disgusts  me 
— that  it  makes  me  sick — and  that  I desire  to  know  no 
more  about  it.” 

{“  Now  I wonder,”  thinks  Mortimer,  amused,  “ whe- 
ther you  are  the  voice  of  Society  !”) 

“ Hear,  hear,  hear  !”  cries  Lady  Tippins.  “ Your 
opinion  of  this  mesalliance^  honorable  colleague  of  the 
honorable  member  who  has  just  sat  down  ?” 

Mrs.  Podsnap  is  of  opinion  that  in  these  matters  there 
should  be  an  equality  of  station  and  fortune,  and  that  a 
man  accustomed  to  Society  should  look  out  for  a woman 
accustomed  to  Society  and  capable  of  bearing  her  part 
in  it  with — an  ease  and  elegance  of  carriage — that — ” 
Mrs  Podsnap  stops  there,  delicately  intimating  that  every 
such  man  should  look  out  for  a fine  woman  as  nearly  re- 
sembling hei*self  as  he  may  hope  to  discover. 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


287 


(^‘ Now  I wonder/^  thinks  Mortimer,  “whether  yov 
are  the  Voice  !”) 

Lady  Tippins  next  canvasses  the  Contractor  of  five 
hundred  thousand  power.  It  appears  to  this  potentate, 
that  what  the  man  in  question  should  have  done,  would 
have  been,  to  buy  the  young  woman  a boat  and  a smal 
annuity,  and  set  her  up  for  herself.  These  things  are  a 
question  of  Beef-steaks  and  porter.  You  buy  the  young 
woman  a boat.  Very  good.  You  buy  her,  at  the  same 
time,  a small  annuity.  You  speak  of  that  annuity  in 
pounds  sterling,  but  it  is  in  reality  so  many  pounds  of 
beefsteaks  and  so  many  pints  of  porter.  On  the  one 
hand,  the  young  woman  has  the  boat.  On  the  other 
hand,  she  consumes  so  many  pounds  of  beef-steaks  and 
so  many  pints  of  porter.  Those  beef-steaks  and  that 
porter  are  the  fuel  to  that  young  woman’s  engine.  She 
derives  therefrom  a certain  amount  of  power  to  row  the 
boat ; that  power  will  produce  so  much  money  ; and 
thus  you  get  at  the  young  woman’s  income.  That  (it 
seems  to  the  Contractor)  is  the  way  of  looking  at  it. 

The  fair  enslaver  having  fallen  into  one  of  her  gentle 
sleeps  during  this  last  exposition,  nobody  likes  to 
wake  her.  Fortunately,  she  comes  awake  of  herself, 
and  puts  the  question  to  the  Wandering  Chairman. 
The  Wanderer  can  only  speak  of  the  case  as  if  it  were 
his  own.  If  such  a young  woman  as  the  young  wo- 
man described,  had  saved  his  own  life,  he  would  have 
been  very  much  obliged  to  her,  wouldn’t  have  married 
her,  and  w^ould  have  got  her  a berth  in  an  Electric 
Telegraph  Office,  where  young  women  answer  very 
well.  ' 

What  does  the  Genius  of  the  three  hundred  and 


288 


OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 


seventy-five  thousand  pounds,  no  shillings,  and  no 
pence,  think?  He  can^t  say  what  he  thinks,  without 
asking  : Had  the  young  woman  any  money  ? 

No,’^says  Lightwood,  in  an  uncompromising  voice  ; 
no  money.” 

Madness  and  moonshine,”  is  then  the  compressed 
verdict  of  the  Genius.  “ A man  may  do  anything  law- 
ful, for  money.  But  for  no  money  ? — Bosh  I” 

What  does  Boots  say  ? 

Boots  says  he  wouldn’t  have  done  it  under  twenty 
thousand  pound. 

What  does  Brewer  say  ? 

Brewer  says  what  Boots  says  ? 

What  does  Buffer  say. 

Buffer  says  he  knows  a man  who  married  a bathing- 
woman,  and  bolted. 

Lady  Tippins  fancies  she  has  collected  the  suffrages 
of  the  whole  Committee  (nobody  dreaming  of  asking 
the  Veneerings  for  their  opinion),  when,  looking  round 
the  table  through  her  eye-glass,  she  perceives  Mr. 
Twemlow  with  his  hand  to  his  forehead, 

Good  gracious  1 My  Twemlow  forgotten  I My 
dearest  ! My  own  I What  is  his  vote  ?” 

Twemlow  has  the  air  of  being  ill  at  ease,  as  he  takes 
his  hand  from  his  forehead  and  replies. 

“ I am  disposed  to  think,”  says  he,  that  this  is  a 
question  of  the  feelings  of  a gentleman.” 

**  A gentleman  can  have  no  feelings  wha  contracts 
such  a marriage,”  flushes  Podsnap.  ^ 

Pardon  me.  Sir,”  says  Twemlow,  rather  less  mild- 
ly than  usual,  **  I don’t  agree  with  you.  If  this  gentle- 
man’s feelings  of  gratitude,  of  respect,  of  admiration. 


OTJR  MUTUAL  FRIEJTD. 


2SD 


and  affection,  induced  him  (as  I presume  they  did)  ta 
marry  tliis  lady — 

This  lady  echoes  Podsnap.  ^ 

Sir,”  returns  Tvvemlow,  with  his  wristbands  brist- 
ling a little,  repeat  the  word  ; I repeat  the  word. 
This  lady.  What  else  would  you  call  her  if  the  gentle- 
man were  present  ?” 

This  being  something  in  the  nature  of  a poser  for 
Podsnap,  he  merely  waves  it  away  with  a speechless 
wave. 

I say,^^  resumes  Twemlow^  if  such  feelings  on 
the  part  of  this  gentleman  induced  this  gentleman  to 
marry  this  lady,  I think  he  is  the  greater  gentleman 
for  {he  action,  and  makes  her  the  greater  ladj",  I beg 
to  say,  that  when  I use  the  word  gentleman,  I use  it 
in  the  sense  in  which  the  degree  may  be  attained  hy 
any  man.  The  feelings  of  a gentleman  I hold  sacred, 
and  I confess  I am  not* comfortable  when  they  are  made 
the  subject  of  sport  or  general  discussion.” 

should  like  to  know,”  sneers  Podsnap,  whether 
your  noble  relation  would  bo  of  }mur  opinion.” 

Mr.  Podsnap,”  retorts  Twemlow,  “ permit  me.  lie 
miglit  be,  or  he  might  not  be.  I can  not  say.  But  I 
could  not  allow  even  him  to  dictate  to  me  on  a point 
of  great  delicacy,  on  which  I feel  very  strongly.” 
Somehow  a canopy  of  wet  blanket  seems  to  descend 
upon  the  company,  and  Lady  Tippins  was  never  known 
to  turn  so  very  greedy,  or  so  very  cross.  Mortimei* 
Lightwood  alone  brightens.  He  has  been  asking  him- 
self, as  to  every  other  member  of  the  Committee  in 
turn,  I wonder  whether  you  are  the  Voice  !”  But 
he  does  not  ask  himself  the  question  after  Twemlow 


290 


OTTR  MUTUAL  TTIIEITD. 


has  spoken,  and  he  glances  in  Twemlow’s  direction  as 
if  he  were  grateful.  When  the  company  disperse — by 
which  time  Mr.  and' Mrs.  Veneering  have  had  quite  as 
much  as  they  want  of  the  honor,  and  the  guests  have 
had  quite  as  much  as  they  want  of  the  other  honor,  Mor- 
timer sees  Twemlow  home,  shakes  hands  with  him  cor- 
dially at  parting,  and  fares  to  the  Temple,  gayly. 


THB  END* 


POSTSCEIPT, 


IN  LIEU  OP  PEEP  ACE. 


When  I devised  this  story,  I foresaw  the  likelihood 
that  a class  of  readers  and  commentators  would  suppose 
that  I was  at  great  pains  to  conceal  exactly  what  1 was 
at  great  pains  to  suggest : namely,  that  Mr.  John  Har* 
mon  was  not  slain,  and  that  Mr.  John  Eokesmith  was  he. 
Pleasing  myself  with  the  idea  that  the  supposition  might 
in  part  arise  out  of  some  ingenuity  in  the  story,  and  think- 
ing  it  worth  while,  in  the  interests  of  art,  to  hint  to  an 
audience  that  an  artist  (of  whatever  denomination)  may 
perhaps  be  trusted  to  know  what  he  is  about  in  his  voca- 
tion, if  they  will  concede  him  a little  patience,  I was  not 
alarmed  by  the  anticipation. 

To  keep  for  a long  time  unsuspected,  yet  always  work- 
ing itself  out,  another  purpose  originating  in  that  leading 
incident,  and  turning  it  to  a pleasant  and  useful  account 
at  last,  was  at  once  the  most  interesting  and  the  most 
difficult  part  of  my  design.  Its  difficulty  Avas  much  en- 
hanced by  the  mode  of  publication  ; for  it  would  be  very 
unreasonable  to  expect  that  many  readers,  pursuing  a 


292 


POSTSCRIPT. 


story  in  portions  from  month  to  month  through  nineteen 
months,  will,  until  they  have  it  before  them  complete, 
perceive  the  relations  of  its  finer  threads  to  the  whole 
pattern  which  is  always  before  the  eyes  of  the  story" 
weaver  at  his  loom.  Yet,  that  I hold  the  advantages  af 
the  mode  of  publication  to  outweigh  its  disadvantages, 
may  be  easily  believed  of  one  who  revived  it  in  the  Pick- 
wick Papers  after  long  disuse,  and  has  pursued  it  ever 
since. 

There  is  sometimes  an  odd  disposition  in  this  country  to 
dispute  as  improbable  in  fiction  what  are  the  commonest 
experiences  in  fact.  Therefore  I note  here,  though  it  may 
not  be  at  all  necessary,  that  there  are  hundreds  of  Will 
Cases  (as  they  are  called)  far  more  remarkable  than  that- 
fancied  in  this  book  ; and  that  the  stores  of  the  Preroga- 
tive Ofiice  teem  with  instances  of  testators  ’who  have 
made,  changed,  contradicted,  hidden,  forgotten,  left  can- 
celed, and  left  uncanceled,  each  many  more  wills  than 
were  ever  made  by  the  elder  Mr.  Harmon  of  Harmony 
Jail. 

In  my  social  experiences,  since  Mrs.  Betty  Higden  came 
upon  the  scene  and  left  it,  I have  found  Circumlocutional 
authorities  disposed  to  be  warm  with  me  on  the  subject 
of  my  view  of  the  Poor  Law.  My  friend  Mr.  Bounderby 
could  never  see  any  difference  between  leaving  the  Coke- 
town  “ hands  ” exactly  as  they  were,  and  requiring  thorn 


P0ST8CEIPT. 


293 


to  be  fed  with  turtle  soup  and  venison  out  of  gold  spoonSi 
Idiotic  propositions  of  a parallel  nature  have  been  freelj 
oiSTered  for  my  acceptance,  and  I have  been  called  upon  to 
admit  that  I would  give  Poor  Law  relief  to  any  body, 
any  where,  any  how.  Putting  this  nonsense  aside,  I have 
observed  a suspicious  tendency  in  the  various  authorities 
to  divide  into  two  parties  ; the  one  contending  that  there 
are  no  deserving  Poor  who  prefer  death  by  slow  starva- 
tion and  bitter  w'eather  to  the  mercies  of  some  Relieving 
Officers  and  some  Union  Houses  ; the  other  admitting 
that  there  are  such  Poor,  but  denying  that  they  have  any 
cause  or  reason  for  what  they  do.  The  records  in  our 
newspapers,  the  late  exposure  by  The  Lancet,  and  the 
common  sense  and  senses  of  common  people,  furnish  too 
abundant  evidence  against  both  defenses.  But  that  my 
view  of  the  Poor  Law  may  not  be  mistaken  or  misrepre- 
sented, I will  state  it.  I believe  there  has  been  in  England, 
since  the  days  of  the  Stuarts,  no  law  so  often  infamously 
administered,  no  law  so  often  openly  violated,  no  law 
habitually  so  ill-supervised.  In  the  majority  of  the 
shameful  cases  of  disease  and  death  from  destitution  that 
shock  the  Public  and  disgrace  the  country,  the  illegality 
is  quite  equal  to  the  inhumanity — and  known  language 
could  say  no  more  of  their  lawlessness. 

On  Friday  the  Kinth  of  June,  in  the  present  year,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Boffin  (in  their  manuscript  dress  of  receiving 
Mn  and  Mrs.  Lammle  at  breakfast)  were  on  the  South- 


29:1: 


POSTSCRIPT. 


eastern  Railway  with  me  in  a terribly  destructive  acci' 
dent.  When  I had  done  what  I could  to  help  others,  I 
climbed  back  into  my  carriage — nearly  turned  over  a 
viaduct,  and  caught  aslant  upon  the  turn — to  extricate 
the  worthy  couple.  They  were  much  soiled,  but  other- 
wise unhurt.  The  same  happy  result  attended  Miss  Bella 
Wilfer  on  her  wedding-day,  and  Mr.  Riderhood  inspecting 
Bradley  Headstone^s  red  neckerchief  as  he  lay  asleep.  I 
remember  with  devout  thankfulness  that  I can  never  be 
nearer  parting  company  with  my  readers  forever  than  1 
was  then,  until  there  shall  be  written  against  my  life  the 
two  words  with  which  I have  this  day  closed  this  book-— 
The  End. 


September  2,  1865. 


w- 


X 


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i'i.MtUUini!!! 


